Benson & Bond
by Mcfergeson
Summary: Olivia Benson is teamed up on the mean streets of New York with Bond...James Bond. A crossover between Law & Order: SVU and Casino Royale.
1. Chapter 1

_This story takes place during the eight season, after the episode "Florida". It also takes place after the events in Casino Royale. This doesn't take place in the same universe as my other SVU stories, but in a universe of its own. Hey, Stephen Hawking once said that there were a multitude of universes, so I guess I'm covered. _

**Benson & Bond**

**Chapter One**

Detective Elliot Stabler slammed his hands on the table and shouted, "Don't you dare lie to me, you little shit!"

"I'm not lying, I swear!" the boy replied. He stared back at Elliot with fierce, unblinking eyes behind his glasses, yet his voice quavered as he spoke. "I-I'm telling the truth, I was never there!"

"We know you were there, Tommy," Elliot said more calmly, yet with the same firm determination. He paced back and forth in the interrogation room, giving the bored air of a man who has heard it all. "CSU puts you right at the scene on the very night that Allison died. So why not cut the bullshit and just fess up right now, huh? You'll feel much better."

_B&B_

Detective Olivia Benson intently watched the confrontation between Tommy and her partner through the two-way glass in the adjacent observation room. Assistant District Attorney Casey Novak stood next to her. She turned to Olivia and said, "CSU has evidence placing Tommy at the crime scene? Why wasn't I told about this?"

"Because it's total bullshit," Olivia replied. "Elliot's just trying to bluff him."

"No!" Tommy shouted, looking outraged. "You're wrong!"

"About what?" Elliot asked. "What am I wrong about? C'mon, tough guy, why don't you try and straighten me out like you straightened out Allison."

"I didn't do anything to her!" the teenager cried. "I wasn't there the night she died, and nothing you say can change that!"

"Looks like Tommy just called Elliot's bluff," Casey said grimly. "I think Elliot's pushing him too hard, anyway."

"He needs to be pushed," Olivia replied darkly. Tommy Irvine was a preening little rich snot who thought he was owed everything--including Allison Gable. When Allison had refused to sleep with him, Tommy had raped and killed her in a fit of rage. If only they could prove it.

Captain Donald Cragen, the commander of the Manhattan branch of the Special Victim's Unit, entered the observation room with an urgent look on his face. "Just got a call from Munch, Tommy's parents are on their way down here right now with an attorney. Has Elliot cracked him, yet?"

"No," Olivia said with a sigh. "The little bastard's still sticking to his story."

"You've got twenty minutes--at best--to get a confession from him," Cragen told her.

Olivia glanced back at Tommy with a practiced eye and noticed that he appeared to be close to tears. Yet something told Olivia that Tommy's grievous appearance wasn't from the verbal pounding he took from Elliot. 'Something's been eating at him, even before Elliot hauled him into the interrogation room,' she realized. 'And I think I know what it is.'  
She knocked on the glass, causing Elliot to promptly excuse himself from the interrogation room. When he entered the observation room, closing the door behind him, Elliot looked flustered and angry. "What is it?"

"Parents are on the way with an attorney," Casey informed him. "They'll be here within twenty minutes, if not sooner."

"Shit," Elliot muttered, disgusted. "He looks like he ready to bawl his eyes out. But he's still dug in. I can't shake him."

"Mind if I try?" Olivia asked.

Elliot gestured at the door which led to the interrogation room. "Be my guest."

When Olivia caught sight of herself in a small mirror on the wall by the door, she saw that her long, dark brown hair was unbound. She abruptly remembered Allison's grieving mother telling her that Allison always preferred to wear her hair back in a ponytail. Grabbing a stray rubber band from the table, Olivia quickly tied her own hair back into a ponytail. Her hair was slightly darker in color than Allison's was--yet Olivia hoped that seeing her with the same hairstyle as his victim should be enough to jar Tommy.

Both Casey and Cragen gave Olivia strange looks, as if wondering what the hell was she doing fixing her hair at a time like this.

But Elliot had a knowing smile on his face. "Go get 'em tiger," he murmured.

Olivia gave him a quick, furtive wink as she opened the door.

Tommy sat staring at the floor with a deeply wounded expression on his face. When Olivia entered the room, Tommy glanced up at her, and she could almost see him building up the mental walls once again, getting ready for another siege.

'Elliot misjudged his own abilities; he actually did a great job,' she thought. 'Tommy's just about primed. But I need to disarm him, first.'

"It's ok," she said, taking a seat across from Tommy at the table. "I'm just here to make sure you're not going to run away, or anything."

"Why would I?" Tommy asked petulantly. "I didn't do anything. Is the interview over? Can I go now?"

Olivia decided to risk it all. "Your parents are coming to get you. That's what we're waiting for, now. Do you need anything while you're waiting? A soda? Something from the vending machines?"

As Tommy shook his head, Olivia could see his guard falling once more. Then Olivia made a big deal of making sure her ponytail was clear of the collar of her shirt. A sideways glance told her that Tommy saw her gesture, and he looked as if somebody had stabbed him in the gut.

'I knew it,' Olivia thought. 'You're feeling guilty over Allison's murder, aren't you? You little son of a bitch….'

"Are you all right, Tommy?" Olivia asked, putting as much concern in her voice as she could manage.

"What? Uh, yeah…I don't feel so good, is all." He glanced back down at the floor, the sadness filling his eyes with tears. "I guess I miss her…."

"You and Allison were the best of friends, weren't you?" Olivia asked sympathetically.

"Yeah, we…Ally and I were pretty close," Tommy muttered uneasily. He smiled briefly. "I always called her Alley Cat."

"It must be hard losing a really good friend like that," Olivia said, deciding it was time to twist the knife in his wound. "Just think of all the things that will now forever be left unspoken between the two of you. You know, I lost my mom a few years ago, and to this day, there are still so many things I wish I could have gotten to say to her. I sometimes wish I could just have an extra five minutes with her right now."

Tommy somberly shook his head. "Ally probably wouldn't want to speak to me anyway…."

"Why not? That's what friends are for, to talk to? Right?"

Tommy then burst into tears. "Ally would hate me! I know she would!"

Olivia leaned forward. "Nonsense, Tommy. You and Ally were the best of friends! I'm sure there's nothing you've could have done to make her hate you."

"Oh yeah…oh yes there is," he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. "But I didn't mean it! I swear to God, I didn't mean to do it!"

'Bingo!' Olivia thought. Now she had to push, but not too hard. "You didn't mean to do…what, Tommy?"

"I panicked!" Tommy blurted out. "After I got it on with her, she-she kept screaming about how I raped her, and how she was going to tell everybody, and I panicked! I-I didn't mean to do it! I didn't mean to kill her! But the next thing I knew, my hands were around her throat and…she was gone! I didn't really want to kill you, Ally, you've got to believe me!"

"Wherever Allison is right now, I'm sure she knows the entire truth, Tommy," Olivia said coldly.

Elliot, Casey and Cragen came into the room. Elliot gave Olivia a sly thumbs up sign of approval. Casey turned to Cragen and said, "I've heard enough. Book him."

"Thomas J. Irvine, you are being placed under arrest for the murder of Allison Gable," Cragen solemnly said, as Elliot pulled Tommy from his chair and escorted him out of the interrogation room.

As Olivia followed the group into the squad room, she saw Tommy's parents enter with their attorney. "Just one minute, Casey," the attorney called. "We need to speak with Tommy."

"You can--just as soon as we're done booking him for Allison's murder," Casey informed him. "He just confessed."

"How can he confess to murder?" Tommy's mother cried. "He's just a baby!"

"Your son is eighteen years old, Ms. Irvine," Casey told her. "That makes him an adult."

"Don't say anything else!" the attorney told Tommy as the entire group left the squad room. "You hear me, not another word!"

Olivia stayed behind at her desk and let out a sigh of relief. For a second there, she wasn't sure if she could shake Tommy enough to get him to confess in time. As it was, they just barely made it under the wire.

John Munch and his partner Fin Tutuola entered the squad room just then. "We just saw Tommy Irvine being taken to booking," Munch said. "Did you get the little bastard?"

"We got him," Olivia confirmed. "Elliot and I tag-teamed him into a confession."

"Way to go, Liv!" Fin said with a smile. "Now admit it, ain't this better than hugging some trees in a forest someplace?"

Olivia smiled. His comment referred to the recent undercover work she did for the FBI, posing as an environmental activist in the pacific northwest.

Munch shot him an incredulous look. "Protecting our natural wildlife is a very important job, Fin. The recent statistics state that if global warming isn't stopped--or at least slowed--there will be no life on earth within the next hundred years."

"Nah, I'm not saying that," Fin muttered with an annoyed wave of his hand. "I'm just saying that Liv is way better at protecting people from the urban wildlife that's out there, y'know? Anyways, why do you always got to turn everything into an argument, John?"

"What do you mean?" Munch said. "You're the one who keeps starting the arguments!"

Fin pointed at him. "You see? Right here's what I'm talking about!"

"I'm not the one who started _this_ argument," Munch insisted. "You're a very hostile man, Fin."

"It's only because you bring it out in me."

'I should have stayed in the woods,' Olivia wearily thought, as she sat down at her desk with a heavy sigh. 'It was much more quiet there.'

Elliot came back from booking Tommy Irvine. He walked up to her desk and said, "Liv, stand up."

"What? Why?" she asked, as she stood.

"Because I wanted to do this." He gave her a tight hug. "Great going with Tommy, Liv. I thought our goose was cooked until you tipped him right over."

The hug that Elliot gave her caused a warm, tingling sensation to spread all over Olivia's body. She found it to be very pleasant, and wanted it to last longer--but Elliot abruptly broke the embrace and went back to his desk.

'Maybe it's just as well I came back after all,' Olivia thought with a slight smile.

_B&B_

'There he is,' James Bond thought.

He watched from the driver's seat of his Range Rover as Ronald Guzman crossed the busy street. Guzman was a portly man in a three piece suit who looked very much out of place among the multitude of scantily-clad vacationers whom he walked among.

Bond waited until Guzman was just far enough away, then he got out of the Land Rover and put on a pair of sunglasses. Dressed in Khaki pants and a polo shirt, he even had the strap of a camera case slung over his shoulder in his attempt to look every bit as just another one of the tourists, out enjoying a sunny day on the Riviera. Yet if anybody were to ask him to take a picture, that would be a problem, since the camera case actually contained his Walter PPK gun.

Bond watched as Guzman entered his antiques shop, opening the door with a key. Bond strode up to the display windows and pretended to admire the various trinkets that Guzman had for sale. But what he was really doing was casing the place. He saw that Guzman appeared to be all alone.

Good.

Bond cautiously entered the store, his blue eyes darting about behind his sunglasses, looking for any hidden accomplices. He feigned interest in an ornate vase with a jade Chinese design as Guzman spoke on the phone behind the counter.

"I'll be right with you, sir!" Guzman called, with one hand over the phone.

'Take your time, we have all day to talk,' Bond thought.

"Don't move!" a man called out.

Bond was startled to see a tall, dark-haired man pointing a gun right at him. Guzman put the phone down and smiled broadly. "Welcome to my shop, Mr. Bond. I've been told to expect you."

Bond should have known. Guzman was only pretending to be on the phone, lulling Bond into a false sense of security while his goon got into position to get the drop on him. Where did he come from? Probably hiding from somewhere behind the counter, no doubt.

Bond held up the vase with one hand and calmly asked, "How much for this?"

For the first time, Guzman looked apprehensive. "Careful, please, Mr. Bond! That's a Ming Dynasty vase, we wouldn't want to damage it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Bond said. He glanced at the man who held the gun on him. "Here, you'd better hold this, then."

He tossed the priceless vase right at the armed man.

"Grab it!" Guzman screamed in horror. "Grab the vase, Philippe!"

As Bond expected, Philippe forgot all about him and grabbed the vase with both hands. In the spilt second it took him to do that, Bond flicked a hidden switch on the camera case, causing the Walter to drop out of the bottom and into his hand.

Bond quickly brought the Walter up and pumped three bullets right into the stunned Philippe's chest. The Walter had a silencer attached to its muzzle, which effectively muted the gunshots from the vacationers frolicking outside.

Bond swung the Walter over in Guzman's direction--only the shopkeeper was already gone. Bond removed his sunglasses and saw that a door behind the counter was left ajar.

'Cheerio, Philippe,' Bond thought, as he stepped over the man's body. Philippe still clutched the Ming vase in a death grip, his surprised expression making him look like an overly excited antique shopper who suddenly keeled over while hunting for a bargain.

Bond burst into the back room and immediately found Guzman cowering in a corner. There was no other way out of this room. "Please don't hurt me!" the man whined, as Bond stuck the gun right in his face. "I'm merely a simple shopkeeper!"

"A simple shopkeeper, eh? And I suppose Philippe was just a security guard you hired to scare off shoplifters," Bond said with a shake of his head. "You said you were told to expect me. Who told you, Guzman?"

"I don't know!" Guzeman cried.

Bond shot a bullet into the wall right next to Guzman's face, making the man flinch. "That's not good enough, Ronald. The next one will be in your kneecap."

"M-my contact never tells me his name," Guzman cried. "I swear!"

"What organization are you working for?" Bond firmly asked.

"While I admit that I am more than just a dealer in antiques, I am what you would call an independent contractor. One who is hired on a job by job basis, Mr. Bond," Guzman said with a shrug. "I don't know of any organization. I barely know who hires me, or why, and I prefer it that way."

"What about Lucien Marko?" Bond asked. "Where is he?"

"I never heard of him!" When Bond aimed the gun at one of his knees, Guzman held his hands up in a helpless gesture. "I swear, Mr. Bond, I've never heard of a Lucien Marko!"

'Little bastard's lying through his teeth,' Bond thought. There were several different ways he could make him talk--all of which would be very ugly and painful for Guzman. Yet Bond had a better idea.

"Very well, Ronald," Bond said, as he abruptly lowered the gun and stepped back. "I'll leave you for now. But I'll be back. And when I return, you'd better have the answers I want--or else I shan't be as polite as I have been up to now."

Bond left Guzman in the back room of his shop with a shocked look that was priceless.

_B&B_

Bond leaned up against a streetlamp, pretending to look for directions in a tourist map that he held up to his face. Yet he was actually keeping an eye on Guzman's antique store across the street. So far he hasn't emerged.

Bond was taken aback when he saw a familiar looking woman walk up the street in front of the shop. She had long black hair, and strikingly beautiful blue eyes with a piercing stare.

'Vesper?' he thought, amazed. 'But I watched her drown in Venice, I brought her body out of the water, how could she be here?'

Bond relaxed when he saw that he had been mistaken; the woman was just another brunette with a remarkable resemblance to Vesper. When she saw him staring at her, she smiled shyly and continued walking, giving him an inviting glance over her bare shoulder--as if hoping he would follow her.

'Vesper's dead, keep focused,' Bond told himself.

Bond watched Ronald Guzman as he finally emerged from his shop. He quickly locked the door to his shop and ran down the street. A bikini-clad woman shouted angrily after him when Guzman roughly shoved her aside.

Bond followed him off the main drag and down a side street. Guzman entered a dilapidated-looking warehouse. Knowing better than to just follow him inside, Bond quickly scanned the building until he saw a side door in an alley.

The door wasn't locked, which set off an alarm blaring in Bond's mind. With the Walter PPK firmly gripped in his right hand, Bond shoved the door open and quickly stepped to the side of the doorway--just in case there was somebody in there with an unpleasant welcome.

But it was clear.

Bond went down a narrow hallway that led to another door. He could hear men's voices speaking excitedly on the other side of the door. One of them was Guzman's, who sounded very anxious.

Bond kicked the door down and entered the vast storeroom with the Walter held out before him. He saw Guzman standing next to a man…the very same man whom Bond had been hunting down for the past two weeks.

Lucien Marko.

The moment Marko saw Bond, he aimed an Uzi right at him. Bond managed to get two wild shots off, making Marko abruptly duck behind a row of crates before he could even fire. Bond started running for the crates, his gun at the ready, when Marko suddenly popped up from behind them and let loose a withering hail of bullets from the Uzi.

Bond deftly dived for cover underneath a workbench, but the spray of gunfire caught the hapless Guzman, who let out a yelp as he fell to the floor. Bond got off three more shots from his position under the workbench, causing Marko to let out a curse as he ducked down behind the crates once more. Bond stared at the dead Guzman, who lay splayed out face-down on the concrete floor, looking like road kill.

Bond, pressing the attack, got to his feet once more with the gun held out. He stood next to the workbench, and did a double take when he saw a Blackberry Smartphone lying on its surface. Still aiming his gun at the crates, Bond slipped the Blackberry into his pocket with his free hand.

"Marko," he called. "There's no other way out of here. Just give it up. Surrender peacefully, and I promise you'll be treated very well."

There was no response--not that Bond was expecting one. Marko was a renowned bomb maker who hired his skills out to the highest bidder. Bond had found him to be a cunning and ruthless quarry these past few weeks, one whom he could almost come to respect. Almost, but not quite. The big problem with Marko was that he had no regard for human life whatsoever. Killing another professional was one thing in this game, but using a small child as a human shield--as Marko once did to evade arrest in Madrid--was simply not done in Bond's book. And any man who could do something like that was not a man to be treated lightly, nor with respect.

That was why Bond approached the crates very carefully, with his gun at the ready. Yet he wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Marko was gone. There was a small sliver metal box set by an opened trap door in the floor. Bond carefully leaned forward, and saw that the metal box was actually a clock.

A clock that was counting down to zero, with twelve seconds left.

"Shit," Bond muttered, as he started running for his life.

He exited the building and ducked for cover in the alley just as the explosion erupted. Something slammed into the brick wall next to him, missing Bond by inches. When he glanced up, he saw it was the very same door that he had kicked in.

Bond removed his hands from his ears and stood up. The warehouse itself was still intact; its solid walls still stood. Yet the explosion blew out all of the windows and had set the interior ablaze, wiping out whatever evidence there might have existed inside. There was no way to track where Marko might have gone.

'Except for this,' Bond thought, as he patted the Blackberry in his pocket. He quickly left the alley and got back to his Range Rover. There, he examined the high-end cell phone. Although it did belong to Marko, unfortunately, he was smart enough not to leave any discriminating information on it.

But there was something. An email from an airline, confirming a ticket to New York City that had been bought yesterday. Bond was very unsettled at the revelation that one of the world's most cold-blooded bomb makers was headed for New York City.

'Not good,' he thought grimly. 'Not bloody good at all.'

_B&B_

"Look at this," Fin said, gesturing at the TV in the squad room. It was tuned to the news, and showed images of the aftermath of an explosion. "Looks like another terrorist bombing overseas."

"Where is it? Cannes?" Olivia said, as she paused in stirring her tea. "Isn't that were they have the film festival?"

"Who set off the bomb, an angry film critic?" Elliot jokingly asked.

"They're saying it was an accident," Munch said with a scoff. "Yeah, right. A likely story."

"You don't think it was an accident, John?" Olivia asked.

Fin frantically waved at her. "No, Liv, don't encourage him!"

Munch angrily pointed at the TV. "They're saying here that the explosion took place in an abandoned warehouse. But who the hell knows what was in there? Or who?"

"Here it comes," Fin muttered with a weary sigh. "Thanks a lot, Liv!"

Olivia just gave him a helpless shrug. "I forgot, ok? Sorry!"

"We may have just witnessed an assassination by the CIA right here," Munch said, now warming up to his favorite topic. "And even though it's being reported live, on TV, it's _still_ managed to be swept under the rug. Your tax dollars at work, folks!"

"I still say it was an angry film critic," Elliot retorted, with a deadpan look.

"I don't know which one of them is worse," Fin said to Olivia. "Munch may ramble, but at least he's earnest."

"Just think about the crap that Hollywood comes out with on a regular basis," Elliot said, determined to run this joke right into the ground. "That would be enough to drive any film critic nuts. Take what's her name, Rachel Ray. If she watches enough of these crappy films, she'd go off the deep end, too!"

"Rachel Ray isn't a film critic," Olivia corrected.

Elliot frowned at her. "She's not? What the hell is she, then?"

"A talk show host, right?" Fin said. "But she only talks about food, I think."

"Sounds like a pretty dull talk show," Elliot commented.

"She's part of the great diversionary tactic employed by the powers that be in this country to keep us from knowing the real truth," Munch said. "The mass media, along with Hollywood, are working in conjunction with the CIA to lull the public into a state of--"

"Excuse me, Munch," Cragen said, as he came out of his office just then. He held up a sheet of paper. "Olivia, Elliot, I just got word that your old friend Luke Marcus is back in town. There's been a sighting of him on the West Side. Here's the address. Since he was one of your unsolved cases, you two go check it out."

"Luke Marcus," Olivia said with a nod. "I remember that scumbag. Rich guy with a fondness for young girls. He skipped the country when we started getting too close to him."

"We even got one of his victims to come forward," Elliot said. "Her name was Tracey, wasn't it?"

"Tracey Needham," Olivia recalled. "Brave kid. She never got justice."

Elliot put on his jacket. "Well, if this sighting pans out, there's a good chance we can get it for her now."

"Let's go," Olivia said, after a final sip of her tea. "I was getting a little tired of talking about Rachel Ray, anyway."

"Rachel Ray?" Cragen asked with a thoughtful look. "Wasn't she a porn star?"

"The porn industry!" Munch exclaimed. "Now there's a perfect example of a diversionary tactic used by the CIA on the public!"

"Let's get out of here," Elliot muttered.

"I'm way ahead of you," Olivia replied, as they both hurried out the door.

_B&B_

"Splendid job, 007," M said, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm. "You let Marko get away, and Guzman--the only man who could tell us where he went--is dead. Just marvelous work all around!"

Sitting in her office at MI6 headquarters in London, Bond couldn't help but feel like a naughty schoolboy who was caught by the principal. M was in her seventies, although she had the vitality of a woman half her age. She had been involved in the spy game and its machinations back when Bond was in diapers.

"There's the information on the Blackberry," he offered.

"You know full well that Marko was too smart to use the plane tickets that were confirmed by the airline, since he knows we have his Blackberry," M said. "We've had people watching that flight, and Marko was a no-show."

"But we do know what his next destination is," Bond persisted. "New York City."

"You're assuming the email on Marko's Blackberry wasn't planted there, as a means to throw you off his trail," M said, sitting back in her seat. "For all we know, he could be in Istanbul right now. Besides," she added, as she consulted an opened folder on her desk, "he's wanted by the NYPD under one of his aliases. New York is too hot for him to work."

There was a buzz, and M leaned forward and pressed a button on the inter-com. "Enter."

"Sorry to disturb you, Ma'am," Geoff Jones said, as he rushed into the office. "But we've got a hit on Marko's location. It's New York City. The NYPD got a call about a sighting of him on the west side of Manhattan."

M shot Bond a surprised look. "Apparently, Marko must be dumber than we thought. Why would he go to New York, knowing they're hunting for him?"

"Because that's where whomever hired him wants him to build a bomb," Bond said. "Why else should he be willing to risk a manhunt by the NYPD if New York isn't his latest target?"

"You may well be right," M replied with a nod. "Go to New York and see what you can dig up. Work with the local police. If anybody has a lead on where Marko is in the city, they should. And, Bond, I do hope you won't have any qualms about killing him outright, like you did in Cannes."

"I hesitated killing him in Cannes because I had conflicting orders," Bond informed her. "I was told to try and bring him in, first--then kill him if he refused."

"Then let me allay any doubt in your mind, this time," M said. "You are to kill Marko the moment you find him. Is that clear?"

"Like crystal," he said. He took the folder that she handed him and browsed through it. "The Special Victim's Unit?"

"It's an elite squad within the NYPD," M said. "They'll be your contact for finding Marko. They mainly deal in crimes of a sexual nature. It appears that Marko has a preference for teenage girls, which was what got him almost caught by the SVU before he fled the city."

"He's a child molester?" Bond's countenance hardened into a scowl. "In that case, killing him will be an extreme pleasure."

_B&B_

Elliot knocked on the door of the superintendent's apartment. He heard a woman's voice on the other side nervously say, "Who is it?"

"Police, open up, please," he said.

"Why?" the woman wanted to know.

Elliot exchanged an irritated look with Olivia. "Ma'am, you were the one who called us, weren't you?" he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "About the fugitive sighting in this building?"

"Oh, yeah!"

He and Olivia patiently waited while they listened to the sound of about a half dozen locks being unfastened on the other side of the door. When the door finally opened, a diminutive woman in a house dress smiled broadly at them. Her black hair was done up in hair rollers. "When am I getting the reward? There is a reward, right? Is it a lot of money?"

Elliot felt like throttling the little twit. Olivia must have sensed the rise in his temper, for she stepped forward and quickly said, "Yes, ma'am, there is a reward. But only after he has been successfully convicted. And even before that, we still have to catch him, first." She held up a photo of Marcus. "Is this the man you saw?"

The woman nodded her head. "Yeah, that's him! He came around here about an hour or so ago, asking about some dude who used to live here."

"What dude was that?" Elliot asked.

"He used to live on the top floor, name was George Hellmann," she replied. "He just moved out during the night a few days ago; didn't leave no notice, or anything!"

"What was Mr. Marcus' reaction to that?" Olivia asked.

"If it bothered him, he didn't show it. He asked me if the apartment was for rent. When I said it was, he wanted to see it. I showed it to him, and then he just left. He was kind of rude, too!"

Elliot didn't like the way this was going. "Could we see the apartment as well?"

The woman smiled. "You two thinking of getting a new place? It's really nice. The previous tenant left some of his furniture, but if you decide to take the place, you can either keep his stuff, or I can have it--"

"We're conducting an official investigation, and would just like to take a look at the apartment," Elliot told her, stopping the woman in the middle of her sales pitch. "That's all. Now, if you'd please?"

When the woman took them upstairs and opened the door to the apartment, she let out a cry of horror once she peered inside the apartment. Both Elliot and Olivia quickly grabbed her by the arms and pulled her back into the hallway as they removed their Glocks from their holsters.

Once Elliot stepped into the apartment, he saw what made the super so agitated: one of the windows in the living room had been smashed in. There was broken glass all over the floor. Elliot and Olivia made a rapid sweep of the apartment, with their guns drawn, but it was empty.

"When you showed the apartment to Marcus, was the window broken?" Olivia asked the super.

"No," she replied. "Everything was in order. Oh, these rotten kids! They hang around the neighborhood all day and will steal anything that's not nailed down! Excuse me, I have to go call the landlord!"

Elliot glanced out the broken window and saw there was a fire escape out there. 'That was where the intruder came from,' he realized. 'And probably where he exited through, as well.'

Olivia came over to him and said, "Does it seem strange to you that, right after she shows Marcus this apartment, it gets robbed? That's just too much of a coincidence for me."

Elliot nodded in agreement. "I think we can rule out the neighborhood kids as suspects in this robbery. Marcus comes here, asking about his friend, and when he finds out his friend has run out on his apartment, he comes back and steals something from here," Elliot said, verbally formulating the theory of what happened here. "But what did he steal?"

"I guess that's what we're going to have to find out," Olivia said, as she pulled out her cell phone. "I'll call this in and get CSU here."

Two hours later, after the place had been turned upside-down by Elliot and Olivia, who were helped by an army of CSU technicians, they turned up nothing. Whatever Marcus stole from Hellmann, it obviously wasn't here--but then again, they really had no idea if Marcus truly got what he came for.

As he stood by the window, watching a storm gathering in the east, Elliot couldn't help but shake the uneasy feeling that something very bad was brewing.

Olivia came over to him. "We might as well call it quits for today."

"Yeah," Elliot agreed. "There's nothing here, anyway."

"We can start fresh tomorrow," she assured him.

He dourly shook his head. "You can, but I got court tomorrow. I'm giving testimony in the Westfield case."

Olivia leaned in close and asked, "You all right?"

"Something's really bothering me about all this, you know? Call it a hunch, but I got a feeling this is just the tip of a very large iceberg." Elliot shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired."

"You want to stop and get a drink at Mulligan's after we punch out at the station?" Olivia asked hopefully.

"Nah," Elliot said. He didn't know why, but he felt a growing sense of paranoia about this case. All he wanted to do was go home, call his kids, and make sure they were safe. "Besides, I thought all you tree huggers only drank herbal tea."

Olivia flinched sharply, as if she were stung. She glared at him with a hurt expression. "You know what, Elliot? Maybe you'd be better off asking Dani Beck out for a drink. She seems better suited for you, anyway."

Elliot immediately regretted saying that last remark. "Liv, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so am I," she muttered hotly. "Go home, Elliot. I'll wrap up here."

She turned from him and briskly walked away before Elliot could repeat his apology. He thought about going after her, but felt uneasy about making a scene here, in front of a dozen CSU techies.

As Elliot walked out of the apartment, he thought, 'Smooth, Stabler, real smooth. I'll call her tomorrow and apologize. Hopefully, she'll be in a good mood.'

_B&B_

Olivia awoke the next day feeling like a moron.

She reflected on the sour parting she had with Elliot last night, and wondered what her problem was. Elliot had just made a harmless little joking comment about how she had changed since coming back from her previous undercover work with an environmental group, and she'd practically tore his head off.

'But was it the joke that bothered you,' a little voice asked at the back of her mind, 'or the fact that Elliot turned you down for a drink?'

As Olivia got ready for work, she mused over that thought. She had been eagerly looking forward to just hanging out with Elliot after work all day yesterday--even more so than usual. But Olivia had been away from her job, and Elliot, for several months while undercover. Olivia had assumed she felt this way because she simply missed the big lug.

'But there was more to it than that, isn't there?' she realized. Olivia recalled the time when, deep undercover with the environmentalists, she had been injured while in the process of being arrested. When she woke up in the prison hospital, Olivia had been told that she was calling Elliot's name in her sleep. And then there was the hug that Elliot gave her yesterday, which felt so good, and….

"Good Christ," Olivia exclaimed at herself in the bathroom mirror, "I'm falling for my partner!"

She went to work actually hoping she wouldn't run into Elliot--not because Olivia was still mad at him, but because she felt so awkward. When Munch mentioned that Elliot had already went to the courthouse, Olivia breathed a sigh of relief.

Munch frowned at her from behind his dark glasses. "Having problems in paradise, are we?" he asked.

"Piss off," Olivia grumbled, as she went to answer the phone at her desk.

"Testy this morning, ain't she?" Fin called, his eyes wide. "Looks like Liv didn't get out of the woods soon enough!"

Olivia casually flipped him the middle finger as she picked up the phone. "Yeah, Benson."

"Hey, sis."

Olivia burst into a broad smile. "Hey, you. Lucy told me you got back home. You get settled in, yet?"

"Yeah," Simon said, with a sigh of relief. "It feels great to sleep in the same old bed again, and never have to worry about looking over my shoulder."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Olivia said, feeling extremely grateful to have a brother, an actual family member, to speak to. She shuddered inwardly when she recalled just how close she came to losing him forever.

'But that frigging nightmare's over now,' Olivia reminded herself. "So, what are you up to?"

"Well, I was thinking of asking for my old job back, but now I'm not so sure," Simon told her. "I mean, as long as I'm job hunting anyway, why not aim high, right? Like maybe get something in the city?"

"Sounds like you've got something in the works, kiddo," Olivia said, with an approving nod. "What is it?"

"How about I tell you over lunch today? You free? Elliot can even come, if you want."

The very mention of Elliot's name had caught her off guard. It took everything Olivia had to keep from screaming "WHY SHOULD I BRING ELLIOT? I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!" into the phone. As it was, Olivia still found herself fumbling for the right thing to say. "Uh, um, I'm not…I mean, uh, no, Elliot won't be there. He's got court today."

Cragen came out of his office and said, "Olivia, may I see you, please?"

"You ok, Liv?" Simon asked with concern. "You seem a little…off."

"Yeah, I've had some trouble sleeping," she lied. "Look, my boss just called me, so I gotta go, Simon. I'll call you back, and we'll set up the when and where for lunch all right?"

"Ok, you can reach me at my cell."

"Great, talk to you later." She hung up and walked over to Cragen. "Yeah, Cap?"

"It appears we're not the only ones looking for Luke Marcus," Cragen told her. "Scotland Yard's after him, too. They just sent one of their people over today. I want you to work with him."

'Oh wonderful,' Olivia thought, annoyed, as she strode into Cragen's office. 'Just what I need right now, to babysit some old coger who….'

Her thought was cut off once Olivia laid eyes on the man, who sat in a chair facing Cragen's desk. He was lean and muscular, with dirty blond hair and craggy features that appeared to have been carved from stone. He glanced up at Olivia with a pair of steely blue eyes that resonated with intelligence. He got up to greet her, moving with the confident grace of a panther.

'Whoa!' Olivia thought, impressed. 'What a hottie!'

"This is Olivia Benson, the detective whom I was talking to you about," Cragen said to the man. Then he abruptly shook his head in frustration. "Oh, I'm very sorry, but your name just slipped my mind."

The man took Olivia's hand in his own and said, "The name's Bond…James Bond."

**To Be Continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I'd like to thank Nera, Rebelbyrdie, Andrea and Michael for their great words of encouragement. Thanks very much, guys!_

_I forgot to do this in the first chapter, so I'll do this here: Olivia Benson and the SVU squad were created by Dick Wolf. _

_James Bond was created by the late, great Ian Fleming. I'm not making any money off this story._

**Benson & Bond**

**Chapter Two  
**

"Benson…Olivia Benson," she replied, shaking his hand with a comically deadpan expression on her face.

Bond grinned at her humorous play of his introduction. When he saw the shy smile creep across Benson's face in response, Bond immediately decided right then and there that he was really going to like this woman.

Listening to Cragen speak about her earlier, Bond had pictured meeting a stogy, secretary-type of cop who went by the book. Instead, Benson turned out to be far more attractive, with dark brown hair that was pulled back into a pony tail, and large, expressive dark eyes set within a beautiful, angular face that had very feline features. She wore jeans with a t-shirt and an un-zippered hoodie; a very practical outfit which still managed to show off her slender and fit body very well. Bond noted that the hoodie served to hide the holster for Benson's gun, which rested on her right hip.

"Olivia, you might want to show Mr. Bond the apartment that you and Elliot were at yesterday," Cragen said. He turned to Bond and added, "It's where the last-known sighting of Marcus took place."

"Sure," Benson said. She glanced at Bond. "We could go right now, if that suits you."

"That would be splendid," Bond replied. "Thank you, Captain."

"Not a problem. Have fun, kids," Cragen said, as they left the office.

"Let me just pick up a few things, and then I'll be right with you," Benson said, as she gathered some items from her desk in the squad room.

Bond noted a thin man with dark glasses was looking him over intently. He was seated at another desk, and his dark suit and matching shirt made him look like some kind of a mafia hit man. Another detective, an African-American, sat back in his seat and also gave Bond the once over.

"You traded Elliot for a new partner, Liv?" the man with the dark glasses asked.

"Yeah," Benson jovially replied, as she left the squad room with Bond. "I just got tried of Elliot, so I traded him in for a new model."

"Man, don't ever get _her_ mad!" the African-American cop muttered to the man with dark glasses.

When they got into the elevator, Benson said, "Please excuse the flip remark, Mr. Bond. They've been busting my chops since I got in today." She grew thoughtful for a moment. "In fact, they've been busting my chops ever since I got back, period!"

"Think nothing of it," he said. "It must be hard, being the only female member working in the squad."

"I wasn't always the only female detective. Once, we had another woman member of the SVU, but I am the only one now," she replied. "Normally, the guys are really great. It's just every now and then I feel like I'm trapped in a room filled with pre-schoolers, you know?"

He nodded, smiling. "You mentioned you just got back? Were you out on vacation?"

"No." She shook her head, grinning. "God, I wish I _was_ on vacation!"

"It wasn't maturity leave, was it?" he asked.

Benson almost burst out laughing at that. "Um, no! I was away," she said, chuckling. "I was working undercover for the past few months for the FBI."

"Really?" Bond said, impressed. The more he got to know Olivia Benson, the more he liked her.

_B&B_

The more Olivia got to know Bond, the more she liked him. He had a laid-back, yet confident attitude that she very quickly grew accustomed to. He and Olivia compared notes on their upbringings--his in London, hers in New York--on the drive over to the apartment, and Olivia was endlessly fascinated by Bond's stories of his wild and unruly boyhood. It was hard for her to believe that he ever buckled down and got a job as a straight-laced cop. Yet there was something about Bond--an underlying electric current within him--that told Olivia that he was anything but straight-laced. Olivia got the feeling that there was far more to Mr. Bond than what she saw on the surface.

Strangely enough, when the topic came around to work, that was when Bond appeared to clam up. He was tight-lipped with details about why Scotland Yard was after Marcus, only saying that the investigation was still ongoing, and that it involved the daughter of a Lord in Parliament.

'Typical,' Olivia thought. 'Regular rape victims usually get tossed aside by the system. But once the victim is rich and powerful, everybody moves heaven and earth to get them justice.' Not that Olivia blamed Bond; he was simply doing his job, as she was.

"Did you check up on George Hellmann?" Bond asked, as they got out of the car.

"Yeah, Hellmann's got no priors," Olivia replied. "There's no record of him on VICAP."

"We still don't know for sure if Marcus was the one who broke into the apartment," Bond said. He pulled the door open and held it for Olivia.

"Thanks," Olivia muttered, impressed with--as well as taken aback by--Bond's chivalry. "And yeah, you're right about that. We still don't know for sure who ripped off the apartment--or even what was stolen, if anything."

When they arrived at the superintendent's apartment, the same woman who took Olivia and Elliot up last night came to the door, and her hair was still done up in hair rollers. "You here with my reward?" she asked happily.

"No, we're here to see the apartment again," Olivia told her. "We still have to catch the guy first, remember?"

"How long will that take?" she asked, angry. Then, before Olivia could even reply, she took one look at Bond and said, "Hey, you're a different guy!"

"If you say so," he said with a slight nod. "Although I don't feel any different."

"Oh, you're like that British guy!" she exclaimed. "Simon Cowell!"

"Could you please let us into the apartment?" Olivia said, growing annoyed.

"There's workmen already up there, fixing the window. They'll let you in," she replied. She turned to Bond and said, "Hey, say something else!"

"It was a pleasure meeting you," he said politely, as he left with Olivia.

"Don't cha just _love_ that accent?!" the woman swooned.

"Who the hell's Simon Cowell?" Bond whispered into Olivia's ear as they ascended the stairs.

"He's on a TV show called American Idol," she replied. "I've never seen it. I don't get to watch much TV with my crazy schedule. But I've heard about it."

"I look like him?" Bond asked.

"You sound like him," she replied with a shrug. "You're both British."

"Lucky for me," he muttered, as they walked up to the door.

The front door was opened, and Olivia was startled to see a pair of men in worker's overalls tearing up the floorboards in the apartment. And the shattered window was still broken. When she and Bond entered the apartment, the workmen glanced angrily at them as if they were intruders.

"What are you doing here?" one of them asked with a sharp tone.

Olivia pulled out her badge. "NYPD, we're conducting an investigation. What are _you_ doing here? I thought you guys were supposed to fix the window, not tear the place up."

Both workmen gave each other a wary look. Then one of them quickly bent down and reached for something in his tool box.

"Freeze!" Olivia cried as she pulled her Glock out of its holster and aimed it at the man. "Don't move!"

But the man kept rummaging in the tool box, completely ignoring her order--until Bond came over and kicked him in the head, knocking him back against the wall. Olivia saw the workman was reaching for a gun in the tool box.

The second workman dove out the window. Once he hit the fire escape, he began climbing down to the street.

"I got this one!" Bond said, as he leapt after the second man.

"What? No, wait!" Olivia called after him. She was about to remind Bond that he was out of his jurisdiction, but Bond had already scampered down the fire escape.

"Hey, hey!" Olivia said, turning her attention back to the man on the floor when he moved suddenly. She pointed her gun right at his chest. "Don't try anything funny, buddy! You're under arrest!"

But the man just smiled at her. "It doesn't matter," he said smugly. "Nothing you can do to me could be worse than failing my master."

With that, he quickly placed something in his mouth and bit down hard.

Olivia watched in horror as the man convulsed violently and then died right before her eyes. 'He killed himself!' she thought, her eyes wide with shock. 'The frigging perp just committed suicide!'

Realizing she was now alone in a ripped-up apartment with a dead body, Olivia stared out the windows in disbelief and muttered, "What the hell is going on here?"

_B&B_

'Little bastard can run,' Bond thought, as he raced down the street after the second workman. Normally, he would drop down into a shooting position and put a bullet in his quarry's leg. But there were too many people on the street, and the workman used it to his advantage, weaving in and out of the throngs of people, and thus making himself a harder target to hit.

So Bond stayed right on top of him. Every now and then the workman would glance back at him in terror, and Bond knew that it would be just a matter of time before he got the bastard.

Or not.

Bond cursed when the workman ran across the street, against the light, and was struck dead on by a car. People screamed in horror as the impact flipped the workman head over heels before he landed on the street with a sickening thud.

Bond ran up to the man and bent over him. The workman was alive, but just barely. Bond leaned over so that they were face to face and said, "You're about to die. Release your burden before you go. Tell me who you're working for."

The workman smiled, exposing bloodied teeth. "You will know that soon enough. My-my master will reveal himself…when--"

And that became the last thing the man would ever say.

"Shit!" Bond angrily said. He quickly rolled the body, looking for any kind of ID, or something that could give him a lead. There was nothing like that on the body, save for a single pill that was wrapped in a clear plastic bag.

'A suicide pill,' Bond realized, as he placed it in his suit jacket pocket. He'd seen it before; it was the same type that had been given to CIA agents on especially dangerous missions. 'But this guy couldn't have been CIA. His behavior was way too fanatical; he referred to his leader as his master, almost like a crazed zealot would.'

The driver who ran into the workman got out of his car and came up to Bond. "Hey, it wasn't my fault! He just ran out in front of me, and--" the man stopped and stared down at Bond's hand in terror.

Bond realized he held his Walter PPK in his hand. He had automatically pulled it out without even remembering it. Bond quickly re-holstered his gun and started casually walking away from the accident.

"Where are you going?" the driver called after him.

"You'd better call the police," Bond said over his shoulder.

"I thought _you_ were the cops," the driver muttered.

Bond headed back towards the apartment building, eager to talk to the other guy whom Olivia had detained. Yet when he arrived, Bond was frustrated to see the other workman was also dead. Olivia was bent over his tool box, going through the dead man's things. She wore latex gloves on her hands.

"What happened here?" Bond asked, examining the body. He checked the pockets, but found no ID or wallet. "You shoot him in self defense?"

"No, he killed himself," Benson replied. "He swallowed a pill before I could stop him. And I already checked the body, he's got no ID."

'Damn it,' Bond thought, as a chill ran up his back. His worse fears had been confirmed. Not only was Marko working in New York, as he suspected, but this mysterious organization was also here in force. But who were they and what were they up to? This was the second time he came close to finding out, only to have the answers slip through his fingers.

"Where's the other guy?" Benson asked.

"He just got run over by a car. He's dead, also."

Benson gestured at the dead man on the floor. "Just before he died, he said, 'Nothing you can do to me can be worse than failing my master.'" She gave Bond an uneasy look. "What the hell is going on, Mr. Bond?"

"Call me James," he said, as he thoughtfully strode over to the window. "Did you report this, yet?"

"Yes, the crime scene unit will be here shortly…for the second time in two days," she replied, with a slight roll of her eyes. "And now…Mr. Bond…will you please tell me what's going on?"

Bond gazed at Benson, wondering how much he should tell her. Normally, he would call in his own people to handle the bodies and collect whatever evidence there existed. But since she already called her people in, Bond didn't mind Benson's people handling it--he didn't have much choice in the matter, anyway. As far as Benson herself was concerned, he really liked her; she was an extremely competent cop who knew New York City far better than he did. She could be a huge asset to him.

'To hell with it,' he finally thought. 'If Benson's going to help me, then she needs to know everything. M will probably be pissed at me for telling Olivia--but then again, since when isn't the old gal mad at me, anyway?'

"Can you keep a secret?" Bond asked her. "Because I'm about to tell you a biggie."

Benson gave him a wary look. "Whatever this is, it's a lot bigger than just Luke Marcus, isn't it?"

"Luke Marcus is a major part of it," Bond said. "I've been tracking him for the past few weeks, under his real name of Lucien Marko. He's a bomb maker, one of the best in the world."

"He's a terrorist?" Benson asked, her eyes wide.

"He has no political agenda. He hires his skills out to the highest bidder. He's more of a mercenary, really."

Benson nodded in understanding. "And if he's here, then that means he's going to blow something up here?"

"Most likely. We don't know yet what his target is here, or who hired him." He pointed at the dead body. "But it's a good bet that that man, as well as his friend, worked for Marko's employers."

"His employers wouldn't be the same guys who caused 9/11, would they?"

"No, it's a relatively new organization on the scene; one that's very good at hiding itself. Like Marko, they appear to be in it for the money, more than anything else. We've been trying to track them down, as well."

"When were you planning on telling me all of this?" Benson asked, irritated.

"I'm sorry," Bond said sincerely. "But we were hoping to grab Marko without causing too much of a ruckus. Unfortunately, that appears to be no longer the case. You now know everything I do, Liv."

"Only my friends call me Liv," she solemnly said. "You can call me Olivia."

"Very well, Olivia," he respectfully said. He bent down and examined the torn up floor boards. "It's safe to say that Marko didn't find what he was looking for, or else these gentlemen wouldn't have been here today."

"What _were _they looking for?" Olivia asked. "You have any idea?"

"With Marko, it could be bomb-making equipment, but he's usually too careful not to leave stuff like that just lying around," Bond replied. He ruefully smiled when he recalled Cannes. "And if he had to leave anything behind, he'd blow it with a self-destruct device. Trust me, I've had some personal experience with that."

Bond held up his wristwatch and pressed the sides at two o'clock and eight o'clock with his thumb and index finger. The little green light switched on, informing him that the Geiger counter located within was working. He held out his arm, keeping an eye on the green light, as he slowly walked around the apartment.

Olivia stared at him as if he were insane. "What are you doing?"

Bond turned his wrist so that she got a good view of the face of his watch. "See that green light? If it flashes red, then there's radiation here."

"First time I've seen a diver's watch with a built-in Geiger counter," Olivia commented. "Scotland Yard sure has some neat toys."

"We like being prepared, just like the Boy Scouts," Bond said. A sweep of the apartment told him there was no radiation anywhere. "Nothing, it's clean."

Bond did a double take when he saw Olivia staring at him with distrust. "Is there something wrong?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything, Mr. Bond?" she asked.

"Because, as a detective, you're trained to be suspicious?" Bond shot back.

Olivia was about to reply when she was interrupted by the arrival of the crime scene unit. A group of people wearing blue wind breakers and carrying various bags and equipment entered the apartment, all led by a young woman with red hair. She looked around in exasperation and said, "This is the second crime scene in as many days here! What's with this place, is it haunted?!"

_B&B_

"I love it when the defendant cuts a deal," Casey said, as she removed a slice of pizza from the pizza box on her desk. "It's a good day!"

"Any day not spent in court is a good day," Elliot commented, taking a bite out of his slice. Then, realizing he had just insulted Casey's livelihood, Elliot muttered, "Sorry, I didn't mean--"

"You kidding? I spend most of my time scheming to stay out of court," Casey replied with a wave of her hand. "I was told by a law professor that once you step foot into a courtroom, that's the first step in an uphill battle, and if you can avoid it, do so."

"You certainly did that," Elliot said, smiling. "Westfield and his attorney folded like a house of cards."

"Their defense couldn't hold water, and they knew it," Casey told him, taking a sip of her soda. "He was smart to take the deal, or else I would have nailed him to the wall in court. Since I now have the rest of the day free, I'm thinking of celebrating by getting a new ipod."

"You usually get an ipod every time you win a case?" Elliot asked.

"My old ipod died, and I need a new one," Casey explained. "You free?"

"I wish I could, but I should get back to the barn," Elliot said with a sigh. "Maybe I should call Liv, first, and see what mood she's in before I do."

Casey started to laugh--until she slapped a hand over her mouth and quickly turned away from him.

"What?" Elliot indignantly asked.

"Nothing! It's nothing," Casey said, making a big show of clearing her throat. "I um, got something stuck in my throat, and…oh, boy, you're not buying _that_ at all, are you?!"

Elliot confirmed it by slowly shaking his head. "I'm a detective, Casey. I can detect bullshit when I see it. Now, what was so funny?"

"It's just something that Fin said about you and Olivia…well, it was mainly about you, actually."

"Oh really?" Elliot said, with a nod. "This ought to be good. Let's hear it."

"Ok, look, I don't want to get Fin into any trouble, here," Casey said sheepishly.

"Too late," Elliot flatly muttered. "Now what did he say?"

Casey drew herself up in her seat as she decided to try another tactic. "You know, technically, I'm your boss, and you really shouldn't be treating me--"

Elliot leaned forward in the chair and said, "What did Fin say?!"

"He said that you were cuckolded by Olivia," Casey said rapidly. "And that you two were basically like a married couple. And when you just mentioned calling Olivia to see what mood she was in, that…you know…that reminded me of Fin's joke, ok?"

Casey abruptly stared at something over Elliot's shoulder in surprise. "Hey, it's Olivia!"

Elliot shook his head in disgust. "Oh, come on, Casey! You can do better than that--"

But she kept pointing behind Elliot as she got out of her chair. "No, no, I really mean it! Olivia's on the news! Look!"

They had the TV turned on to the news while they waited for the pizza to be delivered. It was still on. Elliot watched, stunned, as Olivia left the front doors of the very same apartment building that he was in with her last night.

"No comment, no comment," Olivia muttered, shaking her head, as she pushed her way past the group of shouting reporters.

Elliot didn't even wait for the news to end. He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Olivia.

She picked up on the second ring. "Yeah, Benson."

"Just saw you on the news," he said. "What happened?"  
"Uh, yeah, Elliot," Olivia said, sounding oddly embarrassed. "I just brought the bodies over to the coroner's office right now."

"Bodies?!" Elliot said in disbelief. "What bodies?! Are you ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine. We're both fine," she assured him.

"We?" Elliot asked. "Who's we?"

"Look, I don't feel comfortable talking about this over the phone. You know, just in case somebody's listening in," Olivia told him. "So we'll be at Warner's office, ok?"

"Who the hell is we?" Elliot asked again. But the phone was dead. "She hung up!"

"Is everything all right?" Casey asked.

"She said she couldn't talk about it because somebody might be listening in on the call," Elliot said, shaking his head.

"Whoa, that sounds paranoid," Casey commented.

"In other words, she's starting to sound like Munch," Elliot said, growing very concerned. "Excuse me, Case. I've got to get to Warner's office right away."

"Sure thing," she said, with a nod.

Elliot stopped at the doorway when he saw Casey abruptly making a frantic dive across the desk for her phone. When she saw he was watching her, Casey suddenly froze with a guilty look on her face.

"You'd better not be calling to warn Fin," he said, wagging a finger at her.

"Oh, no, I-I wasn't, I…." Casey started to say, until she just gave up with a wave of her hands and grabbed a second slice of pizza. "Oh, never mind, Fin's on his own!"

_B&B_

'What have I gotten myself into?' Olivia thought dismally. She stood with Bond, watching as Melinda Warner performed an autopsy on the man whom had committed suicide right in front of her. Olivia had asked Warner as a personal favor to do the autopsy right away. Because of the poisonous nature of the death, Warner was fully clad in protective clothing--including a face mask.

Olivia recalled the various run-ins she had with Marcus--or Marko, to use his real name--and wished she'd knew then who he really was. Perhaps his secret life as a bomb maker to the highest bidder was what made Marko so damn arrogant. But if Olivia had known who Marcus truly was when he was in the interrogation room, she would have pistol-whipped the bastard.

"It's a highly potent, concentrated dose of cyanide," Warner said, as she stepped back from the body on the autopsy table. "I'd have to do more extensive tests to be officially sure. But the cherry red color of his blood confirms my theory, as well as the smell of almonds."

She removed the mask and gloves and dumped them into a garbage bin. Warner even took the added caution of washing her hands before coming over to where Olivia and Bond stood.

Warner gestured at the un-swallowed cyanide pill on the table--which Bond had retrieved from the man who was hit by the car. "This is real spy stuff here! Looks like you've got a real hot potato of a case on your hands, Olivia."

Olivia shot a look at Bond and thought, 'You don't know the half of it, Melinda!'

"You must not see this sort of thing very often," Bond said.

"On the contrary, Mr. Bond, I see it a lot," Warner said with a smile. "This _is_ New York City, after all."

"Yes, of course," Bond said with a slight nod. "If you ladies would excuse me, I have a phone call to make. I'll be right back."

With a furtive glance at Bond, who stood on the far side of the room speaking into a cell phone, Warner came over to Olivia and whispered, "He's hot! You jump him yet?"

"Melinda!" Olivia whispered with shock. "Give me a break! I just met the guy!"

"Oh, come on, Liv, tell me with a straight face that you haven't at least thought about getting it on with Mr. Bond," Warner said with a grin.

Olivia couldn't help but smile shyly in response, which caused Warner to laugh. It was true; the thought of sharing a romantic moment with Bond had crossed her mind, despite how odd he appeared to be. Yet a part of her felt strangely guilty for even having these thoughts. It was crazy, but it was almost as if Olivia were somehow betraying Elliot.

'Oh, what the hell am I thinking?' she chided herself. "No, I've gotta keep my mind in the game," she said to Warner. "This is turning out to be a case with major implications, and I've got to keep my head clear."

"Good thinking," Warner said with a nod. Then she burst into a smile. "But there's no rule against dreaming, is there?"

Olivia just rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Stranger and stranger," M said on the other end of the line. "You say the one captured by Detective Benson killed himself with cyanide?"

"Yes," Bond replied. "The pills looked to be the same as used by the CIA in some of their more extreme missions. In case they don't want their agents to be caught alive by the enemy."

"Oh, you're not suggesting that the CIA is involved in this, are you, Bond?"

"Perhaps a rogue element of the agency?" Bond said, thinking aloud. "But still, even a bunch of disgruntled spies wouldn't show the sort of zealotry I've seen here."

"Do you know what Marko was looking for in the apartment?"

"No," Bond said grimly. "The NYPD's crime scene unit went over the place with a fine toothcomb, but they found nothing. I don't think either Marko or the workmen found what they were looking for, as well. There was no evidence that it was a bomb making area. No traces of radiation, or anything else."

"What other leads do you have?"

"I'm planning on heading back to the barn with Detective Benson and go over her files on Marko. We'll see if we can dig anything up from that."

There was a pause on the other end. "Uh, yes, very good 007. Um--one thing--you're heading back to the barn?"

Bond smiled slightly. "The Special Victim's Unit's precinct house. It's what Olivia calls it. I guess I must have picked it up from her."

"Ah, yes, I see. Tell me, Bond, this Detective Olivia Benson, is she pretty?"

"Very, but don't worry, M. I'm completely focused on the main task of finding Marko."

"That's a good boy." The line abruptly went dead. M was never one to waste time on such platitudes as saying goodbye.

Olivia came up to Bond when he was putting his phone away. "You ready?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. Bond glanced at Warner and gave her a nod. "Thank you for your help, doctor."

"Oh, you're most very welcome, Mr. Bond!" Dr. Warner said, flashing him a dazzling smile. "And please, feel free to come back again just for a social visit next time!"

Once he and Olivia were walking in the corridor, Bond said, "For a coroner, Dr. Warner seems to be very…cheerful."

"Yeah, that's our Melinda," Olivia said with a slight chuckle. "Dr. Happy-Go-Lucky."

When they emerged on the street Olivia grabbed his arm. "Oh, wait! I almost forgot: I told my partner I'd be meeting him here. You mind waiting?"

"Not at all," Bond replied. He did a quick scan of the street and spotted a car double-parked with the engine running. "Your partner doesn't happen to drive a car with tinted windows, does he?"

"No. Why?" Olivia asked with a frown.

The car with tinted windows abruptly roared to life just then, screeching down the street right at them.

Bond tackled Olivia to the sidewalk. "GET DOWN!"

A hail of bullets hit the wall right where they were both standing just seconds ago.

"HOLY SHIT!" Olivia screamed.

"You all right?" Bond asked, as he helped Olivia up to her feet. She seemed a little dazed, but was physically fine. He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to their car. "You got the keys?"

Still dazed, Olivia handed them to him. "What are you doing?"

"Going after them. Come on." He opened the driver's side door and shoved Olivia inside. When she automatically sat in front of the steering wheel, Bond gently pushed her aside until she sat in the passenger seat. "I'll drive."

"What are you doing?!" she angrily cried.

"We were looking for another lead, and we've just been handed one," Bond said, as he shut the driver's side door and started up the Impala. "Do you trust me, Olivia?"

"Do I have a frigging choice?!"

"Hang on," Bond said, as he twisted the steering wheel and stomped on the gas. The Impala screeched out of its parking spot raced down the street.

"Elliot!" Olivia cried, as she waved to someone through the passenger side window. "ELLIOT!"

_B&B_

Five minutes earlier

Elliot had parked around the back of the coroner's office and was just turning the corner when he heard the gunfire. It sounded like an automatic emptying its whole clip. He instinctively ducked for cover between two parked cars, his Glock at the ready, as other people in the street also scattered to safety. Then the gunfire ceased as a car with tinted windows screeched off down the street.

Elliot got up and started running down the street until he saw Olivia running towards their Impala with a blond-haired guy. He called to her, but she didn't appear to have heard him. Olivia stood by the car momentarily, until Elliot saw the man shove her inside through the driver's side.

Elliot ran full bore towards the car, just as it took off down the street. Olivia saw him; she gazed wide-eyed at him, her hands pressed against the window, as the car raced away with her inside.

He could read her lips; she was saying his name.

"Son of a bitch," Elliot muttered, as he pulled out his cell phone and called Olivia. He did a double take when he heard a cell phone ringing in the street.

Elliot bent down and picked up Olivia's still-ringing cell phone from where it fell on the asphalt. Did it simply fall there, or was it thrown away? Did he just witness his partner being abducted?

Elliot grimly pulled out his police dispatch radio and called in an APB on the Impala. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but if Olivia had just been abducted by that blond-haired guy, then the sooner Elliot got the wheels in motion, the better.

'I just hope to Christ that Liv is all right,' Elliot thought, worried.

_B&B_

On his way out of the radio room, Karl Jergens nodded at the captain as he passed through the bridge. "What's our ETA?"

"We should be in New York by sundown, sir," the captain informed him.

"Excellent, I shall inform the master," Jergens replied.

Jergens left the bridge and made his way through a spacious banquet room, which was being prepared for a massive dinner by several stewardesses--all young women who meekly looked up from their work with frightened expressions as Jergens strode imperiously past them.

"Keep working," he angrily commanded them. "Don't look at me! Just keep working!"

With a final, timid glance at their fearsome boss, the stewardesses anxiously resumed their job of getting the table ready.

'Pitiful wrenches,' Jergens thought with disgust, as he walked down a narrow corridor to a security checkpoint. 'The only good thing about slave labor was that they were cheap.'

The security guards, who looked more like soldiers with their full body armor and automatic weapons, waved Jergens through.

Once Jergens entered the darkened conference room, his entire manner changed. No longer did he walk in a confident stride once he was in the presence of _his_ master. The one, true master of them all.

"Come in Number Two," the figure seated in the chair said. He wore a suit, and had a white cat in his lap, which he stroked continuously in an affectionate manner. His face was shrouded in darkness from the others, who all sat around a large oval table in the conference room.

The cat watched with interest as Jergens, known as Number Two here, took his seat near the head of the table. "I beg your pardon for being late, sir," he said to the man with the cat. "But I've just received some very important information."

"I take it that it has to do with the explosion at our safe house in Cannes?"

"Yes, sir. Marko was required to make a hasty escape, and he blew up the safe house to throw his pursuer off his trail. He's now safely in New York City. Unfortunately, Guzman, our man in Cannes, has been killed."

The figure in the chair continued to gently pet the cat. "Who was pursuing Marko?"

"James Bond, sir."

"Bond." Their leader said his name with disgust. "MI6's newest agent has proven to be quite tenacious. This is unacceptable. The success of Operation Diamondhead hinges on Lucien Marko. We must take extreme measures to protect him, and that means hunting down and killing Bond."

"Yes sir," Number Two said. "We've got several teams of our best assassins hunting him down right now in New York."

"No," the shadowy figure replied. "To kill Bond, I want only the best. I want Mr. Ott. Summon him, Number Two."

"As you wish, sir," Jergens said, as he got up to do what he was ordered. He felt a chill run up his back. The dreaded Mr. Ott was never unleashed unless the stakes were very high. And with Operation Diamondhead finally coming to fruition, the stakes for Spectre were very high indeed.

**To Be Continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I'd like to thank Cecilia, RebelByrdie, Andrea, and Mandy for their kind words. A special thanks to Mandy for setting me straight regarding the House Of Commons. I've went back and changed that. I also fixed a flub in the first chapter, where Bond recalls how Vesper died in Vienna. She actually died in Venice! Arrghh! Anyway, my thanks to everybody for the wonderful feedback. And now, on with the show..._

**Benson & Bond**

**Chapter Three**

"Watch out for the…oh, you're gonna hit the woman! Ohhhh!" Olivia hid her eyes behind her fingers as Bond abruptly twisted the steering wheel of the Impala, just barely hitting an old woman who was obliviously crossing the street.

Bond stomped on the gas once more, driving the Impala straight through the intersection against traffic. Several cars came to a screeching halt in order to avoid hitting them.

"It's a miracle you haven't hit anybody!" Olivia said, dazed.

"I only hit the people whom I don't like," Bond curtly replied.

"Is that what you're gonna do once you catch up to the guys in that car?" Olivia asked. "Because if you're gonna ram them or something like that, you can just let me out right here!"

"I don't like being shot at," Bond said. "Especially from a drive-by shooting. I guess you could say it's one of my pet peeves."

"You could have told me this sooner," Olivia muttered. "Hell, you could have told me a lot of things sooner, Mr. Bond…like who you really are."

Bond shot her a quick look. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, c'mon, Mr. Bond, I've seen you in action," Olivia said with a slight chuckle. "You're more than just a cop. You act like a--WHOA!"

Bond stomped on the brake and twisted the Impala's steering wheel once more so that the car could make a tight turn that had just sprung up on them. Once the street straightened out, Olivia could see the car that shot at them just ahead. It was a big sedan with tinted windows. The brake lights abruptly lit up.

"Hey, are they stopping?" Olivia asked, her eyes fearfully wide. "Why are they stopping? What, are they giving up?"

Bond slowed the Impala to a halt just as all four doors of the tinted sedan flew open and several burly men with guns got out.

"I don't think so," Bond said grimly. "Get in the back seat. When I give the word, you go out the left back door onto the sidewalk."

Olivia was about to protest--until she saw the burly men begin to aim their automatic weapons right at the Impala. Bond didn't even give them the chance, he got out of the driver's side of the Impala and began shooting just as Olivia dived into the back seat.

"GO, LIV, GO!" she heard Bond shout over the boom of gunfire.

With a grunt, Olivia opened the rear door and lunged into the street, where she landed with a roll in between two parked cars. The first thing she did was pull out her Glock--and it was a good thing, because of the man who came up on her with an automatic in his hands. He made a motion to aim the gun at her when Olivia abruptly fired wildly at him with the Glock.

She must have hit him, because the man flinched sharply and fell to the ground.

Olivia got to her feet, her gun still drawn on the downed man. She glanced over and saw the gunfight in the street was over, but she couldn't see Bond.

She bent down to check on the man whom she shot, and saw that he was dead. 'Damn it!' she thought. Although she was perfectly within her rights to shoot him--he was about to kill her, after all--Olivia had wanted him alive, just to find out what organization he was working for.

"Olivia!" Bond called from the street.

"Over here!" she replied.

Bond came over and looked surprised to see her hunched over the body. "You shoot him?"

"I had to," she replied, sharply. "He was about to kill me."

"I wasn't going to debate that," Bond said. "Good for you."

Olivia stood up and pointed her Glock at Bond. "That's great. Then let's debate something else, like who the fuck you really are, Mr. Bond."

Bond slowly held up his hands. "Hey, Olivia, I'm on your side, remember?"

"But you're not from Scotland Yard, are you?" she said. "Like I was just about to tell you before, after seeing you in action, I know you're not just a regular cop. So who are you, really?"

"I'm with MI6," Bond said. "We're the British equivalent of your CIA."

Olivia was startled. "You're a spy?"

"Yes, I work in the Double O sector. My code name is 007."

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Olivia asked. "Isn't this supposed to be top secret, or something?"

"You're holding a gun at me," Bond reminded her.

Olivia quickly brought the gun down. Several dark sedans with flashing red lights came charging up the street at them.

"Everything else I've told you is the truth," Bond said, his eyes intense with sincerity. "I swear. I hope this doesn't change anything, because I could still use your help with this case."

The cars came to a screeching halt in front of them as Olivia holstered her gun. She held up her police badge as several men in suits and sunglasses got out of the cars.

"NYPD!" Olivia called. "And this man…he's with me."

"Thanks, Olivia," Bond whispered.

"Don't mention it," she muttered. Olivia frowned when the men aimed their guns up at them. "Hey, I said I was NYPD!"

"Get down on the ground, now!" one of the men with sunglasses ordered.

"They look like Feds," Olivia furtively said to Bond. "Looks like we're both going to get arrested anyway."

"Wouldn't be the first time for me," Bond cheerfully replied.

"Me, too," Olivia said, as she lay face down on the ground. "Wish I had a nickel for every time I got busted."

"Seriously?" Bond grinned at her as he also got down on the ground. "We've got to get together and swap war stories sometime."

"Both of you, shut up!" one of the men shouted as they came over, their guns drawn.

Olivia grunted as one of the Feds frisked her, removing her gun and badge. Then her wrists were cuffed behind her back and she was roughly lifted to her feet and escorted to one of the cars.

"See you later, Olivia," Bond called, as he was also escorted--handcuffed--to another car.

"Yeah," Olivia manage to call, just before she was shoved into the back seat of the sedan. One of the Federal Agents was sitting there, waiting for her. As she sat down next to him, Olivia said, "Um, ok, I know this looks bad, but I really am a police officer. I'm with the Manhattan Special Victim's Unit, out of the one-six precinct. My commander is Captain Donald--"

"For the last time," the federal agent said, "shut up, bitch!"

Olivia was grabbed from behind by another agent, as the man who sat next to her gagged her mouth with several strips of duct tape. Olivia tried to struggle as a hood was placed down over her head, and then she was shoved onto the floor of the car.

"Bruno, get us the fuck out of here," the man called, sounding annoyed.

Olivia was helplessly tossed about on the floor as the car sped off. 'Holy shit!' she thought in a wild panic. 'If they're not Feds, then who the hell are these guys?!'

_B&B_

'Oh shit,' Elliot thought, as he arrived at the scene.

CSU was already there in droves, working in and around a sedan with tinted windows. Behind it was parked the NYPD-issued Impala that Elliot last saw Olivia in. But there was no sign of her, or of that blond-haired guy she was with.

Captain Siper of the Crime Scene Unit came over to him and said, "Lot of bullet casings--mainly from automatics, but we got a few shells from a Glock over on the side of the street."

"No bodies?" Elliot asked.

"None whatsoever," Siper replied. "There're signs of bodies: plenty of blood here and there. But it looked like they were swept up before we got here."

"Swept up by who?" Elliot wondered.

Siper shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry detective, but that's your job, not mine. If you'll excuse me."

'Where the hell is Liv?' Elliot thought with concern. The talk about bodies being removed had scared him badly. 'Hope Olivia wasn't among--no, I can't even think that. God damn it, I just got Liv back, I can't lose her again!'

When Cragen arrived, Elliot quickly filled him in. Cragen eyed the scene somberly. "Looks like the gunfight at the OK Corral happened here."

"Yeah, they found some bullets from a Glock over on the side of the street there," Elliot pointed. "Looks like Liv gave as good as she got."

"Where is she?" Cragen asked.

"Don't know," Elliot replied, looking around anxiously. "Siper thinks the bodies were taken away before we got here."

"Taken by whom?"

"You got me, Captain. I just hope that Liv wasn't--" Elliot's throat tightened at the very thought that she might be dead. He quickly glanced down at the ground and took a deep breath, his eyes stinging with tears.

"Elliot, you listen to me," Cragen said, as he came in close. "You should know, more than anybody, that our girl knows how to take care of herself. I'm not counting Olivia out anytime soon. And neither should you."

"Yeah," Elliot said, shaking his head. "You're right, Cap."

"Ok, now, what did you see at the morgue?"

"I heard the gun battle, and when it was over, I went up the street and saw Olivia being shoved into the car by a blond-haired guy."

"Bond?" Cragen said with a frown.

"Who?" Elliot asked.

"James Bond, her partner for the day from Scotland Yard," Cragen replied. "He was sent over here to look up Luke Marcus. Apparently Marcus is wanted in England, as well. Bond is blond-haired, so that might have been who you saw with Liv."

"So she wasn't kidnapped," Elliot said.

"She was still involved in two major gun battles less than three blocks away from each other," Cragen told him. "And I'd like to find out why. I've got Munch and Fin coming down, they'll help us canvass the neighborhood. Maybe we can find out if anybody around here saw anything."

"I'd like to get started now, if you don't mind, Cap," Elliot said.

Cragen nodded. "Be my guest. You want to take that side of the street? I'll take the other side."

'James Bond,' Elliot thought, as he walked over to begin his canvass with a group of onlookers by the sidewalk. He was filled with a seething rage. 'What the hell did he get my partner into? He'd better have a good answer for me, or else I'll bitch-slap it out of Mr. Bond.'

_B&B_

"Feisty little bitch, ain't she?"

"Un-cuff me, and you'll find out," Olivia angrily said.

"Oooooo!" her abductors all said in unison, in mock-fear.

She was brought into a squat gray cell with plain metal walls on three sides. The fourth wall was a floor to ceiling mirror--Olivia had no doubt that somebody sat on the other side of that mirror, watching her. The trio of men who were with her in the car had dragged Olivia in here, removed the sack from her head, and then promptly proceeded to frisk her further while she was still handcuffed and gagged. Her shoes and socks had even been removed and examined. Olivia was afraid they were going to strip her completely, but they stopped at removing her hoodie; afterwards she had been re-cuffed again and made to sit on an uncomfortable wooden chair.

While she sat cuffed in the chair, the one they called Bruno even managed to cop a quick feel from her. Olivia had marked his face, and kept glaring at him.

"What are you staring at, bitch?" he snapped at her.

"A sniveling coward," Olivia growled.

"Oh, looks like love at first sight, Bruno," one of the other men laughingly said, as he answered his cell phone. "Yeah? Yeah, ok." After he switched off the phone, he gestured at Olivia and added, "Un-cuff her and let her get dressed. She checks out."

"What?" Bruno said, surprised. "You mean the bitch really is a cop?"

"A detective with the Special Victim's Unit, blah, blah, blah, the whole nine yards," the other man replied, as he un-cuffed Olivia. "Looks like we grabbed one of the good guys after all. Or, in her case, a good girl."

"Who the hell are you guys?" Olivia asked, as she stood up and rubbed her freed wrists.

Before anybody could answer, the door slid open, and Bond entered, looking anxious. Once he saw her, he made a beeline for Olivia. "Are you all right?"

She noticed that he was in his shirtsleeves, with his tie hanging loosely around his open collar and his suit jacket slung over his arm. "Yeah, you?"

"Nothing a trip in the Caribbean could cure," Bond replied with a shrug.

"I have a feeling--after all this is over--that we could all use a trip like that," a soft-spoken male voice said.

Olivia and Bond turned to see a bearded black man standing in the doorway. He wore a suit, and--to Olivia's eyes--looked more like an accountant than the well-dressed thugs who had bullied her.

She was stunned to see Bond smile at him. "Hello, Felix."

"You know him?" she asked.

Bond nodded. "You could say that he's my brother from Langley."

'Langley? Why's that familiar?' Olivia wondered. Then she recalled one of Munch's rants about the CIA, and realized that Langley, Virginia was the home of the Central Intelligence Agency. "You guys are CIA?!"

"So it would seem," Felix replied with a slight nod. "My apologies for the rough treatment, 007--and to you, Detective Benson. But it appears that our investigations have crossed paths." He glanced at Olivia. "Since she's not a member of the family, perhaps we should speak further in private, James?"

"Olivia's a part of my investigation," Bond said. "She can hear whatever's pertinent to what we're doing."

"Very well, then we'll give the good detective a few minutes to gather her things," Felix said. He glanced at Olivia and added, "We'll be in the next room."

Olivia nodded, as she slipped her hoodie back on. She balled up her socks and slipped them into one of the pockets of her hoodie. Before she put her shoes on, she paused and stared at Bruno, who stood leering at her.

"Still mad at me, honey?" he said with a broad grin.

Olivia's mouth spread into an equally broad smile as she said, "Why don't you come on over and find out?"

_B&B_

"We've recently got word of five stolen nuclear warheads making for the Polish boarder," Felix said, once they were alone in the next room.

"Whose warheads?" Bond asked.

"Russian. We're not sure how they were acquired, but the point was they were on their way out of Russia, headed for points unknown, when we…uh…intercepted them."

Bond nodded as he recalled the explosion on the desolate highway a few weeks ago. "The news reports said it was a gas pipeline that exploded. Was that you?"

"Yes--well, actually, it was courtesy of the United States Air Force," Felix said. "Smart bombs launched from a squadron of Stealth fighters. We told them where and when."

"Did you get them?"

Felix looked annoyed. "No. Not all of them. The sons of bitches who were moving the nukes were smart enough to split them up. When our people on the ground checked, there were only the remnants of three warheads in the convoy."

"Shit," Bond muttered. "You think the other two are headed here?"

"Now, why would you think that, James?" Felix asked warily.

"Because Lucien Marko is in New York," Bond said. "He's been hired by somebody, we don't know who yet, to build a bomb."

"No doubt those were Lucien's playmates you and Detective Benson ran into on the streets of our fair city," Felix muttered thoughtfully. "To answer your question, we lost track of the other two nukes."

"I have a feeling we're working the same case from opposite ends," Bond said.

"I was rather hoping we weren't," Felix said, looking visably worried. "The thought of Marko playing with nukes in New York City isn't a happy one. You've been tracking him for a long time?"

"For the last two weeks. I almost caught up to him in Cannes, but he gave me the slip. But he's here, in New York. I know it."

Felix nodded. "Very well. I'll alert the local and federal authorites to step up their anti-terrorism measures. The radiation-sniffers will be out in full force in the city starting right now. You want to work with us from here on end?"

"Certainly, but I work best on my own," Bond said. "I want to keep on hunting Marko. If I find Marko, I'll find the nukes."

"Couldn't think of a better man for the job," Felix said. "What about this Benson?"

"She's very good," Bond said. "I'd like for her to keep working with me."

"You think she's tough enough for this type of job?"

Their attention was suddenly diverted to the bizarre scene beyond the two way mirror, where Olivia stood very close to one of the CIA men, looking as if she were sweet-talking with him. However, a split second later, Olivia suddenly rammed her knee straight into the man's crotch. The man sunk to the floor in obvious pain.

"Hey, stop that!" the other men shouted--as Olivia proceded to straddle the stricken man, grab his head and pound it repeatedly against the hard floor.

"Does that answer your question?" Bond curtly replied, as he quickly left the room.

"I stand corrected," Felix muttered, as he followed Bond. "She's a woman after your own heart, James. I hope you're both very happy together!"

When Bond entered the room, he shoved aside the two CIA men and grabbed Olivia in a bear hug. "Easy, easy! It's me, it's James," he whispered into her ear, as Olivia--still in the heat of battle--instinctively began to fight him. When she began to relax in his arms, he asked, "What happened?"

"This rat bastard felt me up," she replied, breathing heavy. "When I was cuffed and helpless, he groped me!"

"Bruno, I am extremely disappointed in you," Felix said with disgust.

"She a ducking liar!" Bruno said, his voice sounding funny as he tried to speak with a broken nose. He stood up and turned towards Olivia in a threatening manner. "She crazy! She boke by doze! I ought to bake her--"

Releasing Olivia, Bond abruptly walked over to Bruno and slugged him hard across the face, knocking Bruno back down to the floor, where he lay out cold. "You ought to have the sense to know when to stay down," Bond said icily.

"Detective Benson, you have my sincere apologies," Felix told her. He turned to one of the other CIA men and said, "When Bruno awakens, tell him he's been demoted to working as a sweeper in the garage from now on."

Olivia picked up her shoes, then turned to Bond and said, "Hey, thanks."

"Just keeping an eye on my partner," he said.

"Oh, this is a match made in heaven," Felix commented. "I do hope you'll let me know when the wedding takes place, James. Will your gifts be registered at Smith & Wesson?"  
Olivia stared at him, then at Bond. "The hell's _he_ talking about?"

"Spy humor," Bond muttered, as they all walked out of the room.

The unconscious Bruno was left exactly where he fell.

_B&B_

'She's alive!' Elliot thought jubilantly, as he entered the SVU bullpen. Several of the witnesses whom he canvassed at the scene of the gunfight had seen Olivia and Bond get arrested by several men in dark sedans. He still didn't know where she was, but Olivia was alive and well. 'And knowing Liv, she's also probably pretty pissed right about now, too!'

Simon stood up from where he sat by Olivia's empty desk and came over to Elliot. Simon had called Olivia's cell phone--which Elliot had in his possession, so he answered the call. Olivia's brother became worried about her when she never called back to make arrangements with him for lunch.

"You find anything out?" Simon urgently asked.

"Yeah, Olivia's all right, but she's been arrested," Elliot told him.

"Arrested by who?"

"That's what we've been trying to find out," Elliot replied.

Cragen emerged from his office. "Well, she hasn't been grabbed by the NYPD. I've just called some of my friends in high places within the department."

"She's been arrested by Feds," Elliot said grimly. "They're the only ones left."

"Olivia's told me about the time you and her have been arrested by U.S. Marshals," Simon recalled. "Could they be the ones who arrested her this time?"

"I don't think so," Munch called as he and Fin entered the squad room.

"What have you got?" Cragen asked him.

"A couple of the witnesses we canvassed saw Olivia being taken into a car in handcuffs," Fin said.

"Yeah, so?" Elliot replied. "That's the same thing all of my witnesses said, as well."

"Yeah, but _our _witnesses said that, once she was in the car, Olivia was then gagged with duct tape and then had a hood placed over her head," Munch grimly reported.

'Oh Christ,' Elliot thought, as he felt his stomach tighten into a cold little knot.

"Now _that's_ not a standard arrest procedure, is it?!" Simon said, looking very worried.

"Easy," Elliot told him. "Just take it--"

"Take it easy?!" Simon asked, looking incredulous. "Elliot, my sister has just been abducted by God knows who!"

"This doesn't track," Cragen said. "Everybody I spoke to said the people who took Olivia and Bond into custody were cops. They even flashed badges!"

"It's pretty easy to get fake badges these days," Fin said.

"Yeah, or--" Munch started to say, then stopped.

"Or…what?" Elliot asked.

"Or they really were feds," Munch said. "But they're the really scary kind: the CIA."

"Oh, you and the fucking CIA!" Elliot shouted, annoyed. "I swear, Munch--"

"Now who's losing his cool?" Simon muttered.

"All right, all right," Elliot said, as he regained control. "Look, I know who's behind this, or at least who we should be looking at. This Bond guy. I mean, is it any coincidence that the moment he pops into Olivia's life, all hell breaks loose?"

"I've already double-checked Bond's credentials," Cragen told him. "He checks out."

Elliot shook his head. "I still don't like him, Cap."

"You haven't even met him yet," Cragen said.

"Call it a hunch, but I've got the feeling that we'll find out what's going on if we dig deeper into this Bond guy's background," Elliot said.

"Can't see anything wrong with that tactic," Fin commented.

"Who's Bond?" Simon wanted to know.

"Some dork from Scotland Yard who partnered with Olivia today," Elliot replied. "Name's James Bond."

After a few thoughtful moments, Cragen nodded. "All right, since we don't have much else by way of leads, why don't we look into Mr. Bond's background? I'll also give Casey a call and see what she can do about getting any information from our friends the feds."

After they all split up, Elliot started to head back to his desk, until he saw Simon standing helplessly by himself.

He strode up to Simon and said, "Don't worry, none of us will rest until we find her."

"If it weren't for Olivia, I wouldn't even be standing here today," he said. "My life has improved so much since she's found me, Elliot. I don't want to lose her. I don't know what I'd do without her, y'know?"

Elliot nodded, as he dismally thought of a life without Olivia. "Yeah, Simon. I know exactly what you mean. I'd be lost without her, too."

_B&B_

Bond sat back on the table and watched Olivia carefully. They were in an empty lounge area at the CIA's headquarters in New York. Bond sat on the coffee table, facing Olivia. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, cradling a cup of tea in her hands as she stared despondently at her shoes, which sat obediently on the floor before her.

"You all right?" Bond asked.

"No," she said softly. "I mean, sweet Jesus, James!"

"Yeah," he said with a grim nod. "I know."

"I've lived through 9/11," she said somberly. "I've seen that horror with my own eyes. And, on that day--and for days afterward--I couldn't imagine anything more terrible happening…until now. Oh, my God!"

Bond leaned forward and firmly said, "They haven't won, yet. There's a lot of very good people who are working very hard to stop them, Olivia."

"I guess you would be included in that group," Olivia said with a slight smile. "Mr. 007."

"And you, as well," Bond told her. When she gave him a shocked look, he added, "I'd like for you to keep working with me on this. Nobody knows this city like you, Olivia. But if you'd rather not, I'd understand perfectly."

"I'm scared to death at the mere thought of dealing with this situation," she admitted. "But how can I just go back to my normal life now, knowing what I know? I wouldn't be able to sleep, anyway. If you need me, James; if there's really anything at all that I can do to help, then you've got it."

Bond smiled. "Thank you, Olivia."

Olivia glanced down for a moment, and then she said, "Hey, remember what I said before, about how only my friends call me Liv?"

"Yeah."

She nodded. "Well, you can call me Liv, if you want."

"Liv it is, then."

"If I help you, do I get one of those fancy double O titles?" she playfully asked. "Maybe I can be 008?"

"Sorry, my dear," a female voice called out. "Only I can assign such a title."

Bond was startled as he quickly stood up and saw M standing in the doorway of the lounge. "Ma'am, what are you doing here?" he blurted out.

M merely glared at him, as if deeply insulted. "Nice to see you, as well, 007."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, I didn't mean--"

"Of course not." M stared expectantly at Olivia, who placed her tea on the table and stood next to Bond. "Well, 007? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"This is Olivia Benson, she's a detective with the NYPD's Special Victim's Unit," Bond said. "Liv, this is M, my boss. She heads MI6."

"Should I curtsy, or something?" Olivia whispered out of the side of her mouth to Bond.

"Oh no, my dear," M said with a laugh. "You only curtsy when you meet royalty, and I'm about as far from royalty as you can get--although I have been called a royal bitch on occasion. But screw'em if they can't take a joke, I always say."

"Uh…ah, yes, ma'am," Olivia said, looking surprised.

M glanced at Bond and said, "Report."

Bond filled her in on the whole affair up to now, including his plans to continue hunting Marko on his own. M nodded and said, "Good idea. If you find Marko, you'll find the bomb. I'll remain here and coordinate things with our CIA bretheren."

"We should get going," Bond said. "I'll ask Felix to have somebody here give us a lift back to the precinct."

"No need," M told him, as she handed Bond a set of car keys. "I've brought you a little gift from Q Branch. It's in the parking garage."

"Why M," Bond said with a smile, "you shouldn't have."

"You're right, I shouldn't have," she muttered. "Especially after you wrecked the last one in Montenegro! Do try to bring this car back in one piece, 007. Better yet, perhaps you should let Detective Benson drive it."

"I'll keep that little piece of advice in mind, Ma'am," Bond wearily replied as he and Olivia left the lounge area. "I'll keep in touch."

"Please do," she called. "The next thing I want to hear from you is that you've got Marko's head on a platter."

"That's your boss?!" Olivia muttered, once the elevator doors slid shut. "And I thought Cragen was scary! He's a pussycat compared to her!"

Bond grinned as the elevator doors opened on the garage level. There was a sea of bland cars arrayed before them. They were all the standard federal-issued sedans, with the only difference between them being their color: either black or white.

"Which one is--" Olivia started to say. And then she stopped suddenly when she saw it. "Oh, there it is."

The late model Aston Martin was low and sleek, and painted a gunmetal gray in color. Parked as it was among the other innocuous cars, it looked like a predator amidst a crowd of sheep.

"Yes, it stands out in a crowd, doesn't it?" Bond said, as he opened the passenger door for her.

"Let's just say I'm glad this monster's on our side," Olivia said, just before Bond shut the door for her.

"Nice wheels," Olivia said, impressed when Bond got in the driver's side. She reached for a control panel on the dashboard. "Is that the radio?"

"Uh, I'd appreciate it if you'd didn't touch anything, Liv," Bond said, gently grabbing her hand before she could accidently turn on the machine guns in the front bumper. "There's some pretty delicate equipment packed in here."

"Has MI6 got this thing tricked out?" Olivia asked. When Bond nodded, she replied, "How?"

"It's completely bulletproof, for one thing," Bond answered, as he started up the engine and pulled the car out of the parking slot.

"It rides like a dream," Olivia commented. "Wish the NYPD could afford rides like this for us."

Bond wondered if he should further explain how the Aston Martin was "tricked out," such as the machine guns in the forward and rear bumper, the battering rams, the hubcap tire shredders, and so on. But then he thought against it. Many of these items were top secret, and Olivia will see them in action if the situation called for them.

'I doubt we'll even need any of these gadgets anyway,' Bond thought. Yet as he drove down the streets of New York City, a small voice from the darkest corner of his mind said, 'Don't be so sure….'

_B&B_

Lena was pissed.

The young woman was stretched out on top of a crate in the warehouse, listening to Wyatt blather on about how they would deal with this new threat to Operation Diamondhead.

"Remember people," Wyatt said, his loud, obnoxious voice echoing off the walls of the nearly empty warehouse. "James Bond is just a regular guy. And that means he can be killed just like anybody else."

'If that were truly the case, then why did Bond just wipe out one of our best hit teams?' Lena wondered, rolling her eyes with disgust. 'Since Bond showed up, our people have been dropping like flies, and all this dipshit can do is give us a stupid little pep talk?'

Standing at barely 5 feet 2 inches, Lena was a diminutive woman in size, with spiky black hair and a surly attitude towards life. German by birth, Lena was one of the best hit women working for Spectre because of her natural ability to change her looks and blend into a crowd. Yet little did Spectre know that Lena enjoyed being an assassin so much that she would have gladly paid them for the honor of ridding the world of people who were nothing more in her eyes than excess baggage.

Yet the joy she felt at doing her job had been tempered lately, thanks to working for this blundering moron Wyatt, whom Jergens had placed in charge of security of Operation Diamondhead. Wyatt didn't know it, but he was seriously out-classed by Bond, and because he was oblivious to this fact was costing them dearly.

'With Wyatt the jerk-off in charge of security, is it any wonder Marko's in hiding, in fear for his life?' Lena wondered with disgust.

They were all abruptly startled by the sound of a door opening at the far end of the warehouse. Wyatt turned to see a man approach them. He wore a suit and a hat. Lena, like the others, got ready to draw her weapons, which included a Barreta gun tucked under her armpit and a stiletto knife hidden in her boot.

"Who the hell are you?" Wyatt demanded to the intruder.

The man removed his hat, revealing a face with one milky white eye. There was a scar running down his face from above and below that dead eye. He stared right at Wyatt and said, "My name is Mr. Ott. Who is in command here?"

'Mr. Ott?!' Lena thought, stunned. She'd heard that name--every hit man and hit woman worth their salt did--but very few people ever actually met the legendary hit man. Very few people met Mr. Ott and lived to tell the tale.

"I am," Wyatt said, as he stepped forward. "I am in charge here."

Mr. Ott's right hand flashed out at Wyatt in a move that was as quick as lightning. He was so fast, that Lena barely saw him strike Wyatt. Yet Wyatt's eyes suddenly grew wide as he began to choke and gurgle. When a line of blood appeared at his collar, Lena realized that Mr. Ott had just slit his throat.

As the dying Wyatt fell to the floor, Mr. Ott coldly stepped over his convulsing body and stood facing the team. "Once again, I ask the question," he said, in a soft voice. "Who is in command here?"

"You are," Lena blurted out.

Mr. Ott glanced at her and smiled ever so slightly. "Better. Much better. Come, everyone gather around the table. The nukes will be here within hours, and we have much work to do."

For the first time in days, Lena grinned broadly. 'The tide has turned,' she happily thought, 'and James Bond had better watch his back!'

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I would like to thank Nera, Futureforensic, Barbarossa Rotbart and Georgesgurl117 for their kind words. I've realized that writing fan fic is easier during the winter, when we get a lot of snow in my area. Then, I just hole up and write. But with summer, and the nice weather, there are just too many distractions. :-) Anyway, here's the latest. Hope you enjoy it. _

_**Benson & Bond**_

**_Chapter Four_**

Mr. Ott was taken to Lucien Marko's hideout by Lena. It was in an old, abandoned tenement building with boarded up windows. After they walked all the way down a long hallway, Lena waved off two burly bodyguards who abruptly stepped out from the shadows, their guns drawn.

"It's ok," Lena told them. "He's with me."

Mr. Ott liked Lena; the young woman was passionate about her job, and never hesitated to do what was needed to be done. 'Spectre has a new rising star in their midst,' he thought. 'If she continues to impress me, I may yet take her under my wing as an apprentice when this job is over.'

There was an uneasy moment when one of the bodyguards didn't appear to be convinced that Mr. Ott was on the level. "And who is he?"

"I am Mr. Ott, and I have a reputation for being something of a dangerous man," he said gently. "If you don't let me pass, you shall find out firsthand how I gained that reputation."

The bodyguard appeared startled as he quickly backed off. "Sorry, sir."

His comrade carefully knocked on the door in a particular pattern, then called: "You have visitors. They've been cleared."

The door opened a crack and Lucien Marko eyes peered nervously out at them. When he merely stared at them, Lena asked, "Aren't you going to let us in?"

"Who is he?" Marko asked.

Lena let out an annoyed sigh. "This is Mr. Ott."

Marko's eyes grew wide. "You!"

"I take it you've heard of me?" Mr. Ott asked.

"Yes, of course I have," Marko said, opening the door all the way. "Please, come in."

They entered a hovel of an apartment. Even if the windows weren't boarded up, the place would still be a mess. 'Beggars can't be choosers,' Mr. Ott thought.

"You're the man who assassinated Viktor Drumlin, the former KGB section chief," Marko said in awe. "He was unreachable, well-protected by a private army of his former KGB agents, but you still got him! That was amazing!"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Mr. Ott said. The fact of the matter was, Marko was right; he did indeed kill Drumlin--yet he never discussed prior hits with anybody. He glanced at Marko with a critical eye and noticed that he appeared to be sick. "Are you ill?"

"I'm fine," Marko said, wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead. "What are you doing here?"

"He's taking over security on the job," Lena told him.

Marko frowned at her. "What happened to Wyatt?"

"He's been retired," Mr. Ott replied. "The warheads will be here within a matter of hours. Are you ready to receive them?"

Marko nodded. "Yes. But what about Bond? He's been hounding us--"

"Bond will not be a problem any longer," Mr. Ott assured him. Then he glared at Marko when he started laughing. "Did I say something funny?"

"Forgive me, Mr. Ott, but that was pretty much what Wyatt promised me," Marko said. "And we know what's become of him."

"Wyatt is dead because I killed him," Mr. Ott stated. "I asked him a question, and he did not have the right answer. Let me ask _you_ a question."

He took a threatening steps towards Marko, which caused the latter to back away in fear. "I need to know if you will be ready when the warheads get here," Mr. Ott said. "Will you?"

"Yes, I said I will. But Bond is--"

"You just worry about building the bombs," Mr. Ott told him, "and let me handle James Bond. You should get out of here, move to a new hideout."

"I won't be bothered here," Marko replied. "I own this building."

"Which is all the more reason for you to leave," Mr. Ott said. "Every law enforcement agency in this country is searching for you, and once they discover that you own this building, you will not be left alone for very long." He glanced at Lena. "Take him to the car."

"What will you be doing?" she asked.

"Setting up explosives in this building," Mr. Ott told her. "In case the FBI or local police do find this place, I want to prepare a little surprise for them."

Lena smiled. "You'll be killing a large contingent of police, along with using the chaos that follows to throw the rest of them off our tracks. Marvelous idea, Mr. Ott."

Mr. Ott watched as Lena and Marko walked briskly out of the room. 'Yes, I really like this one,' Mr. Ott thought, as his lips parted into an ever so slight smile. 'She will serve me very well.'

_B&B_

"Damn it," Elliot muttered. "She couldn't have just disappeared!"

Casey held her hands up helplessly. "I'm sorry, Elliot. But, according to my contacts, neither the FBI, the Federal Marshals, the DEA or the ATF have arrested Olivia."

"Then your contacts are lying to you," Elliot said.

"There's no reason for them to do that," Casey retorted, looking offended.

"Everybody's trying as hard as they can, Elliot," Cragen reminded him. "And we all want Olivia back as badly as you do."

"Could somebody be lying to your contacts?" Munch asked Casey. "Could one of these alphabet agencies grabbed Olivia and Bond and are keeping mum about it?"

"Why would they do that?" Simon anxiously asked.

"In the interest of national security," Munch said sarcastically. "I mean, let's face it, all of our civil rights have been eroded since 9/11. The Feds can hold a person for as long as they want without reason if they're suspected to be a terrorist."

"That's assuming Olivia was arrested at all," Fin said grimly. "We still don't know for sure who grabbed her and that Bond guy, or where they are now."

"Casey, does your contacts with the Feds also cover the CIA?" Munch asked.

"No," she replied. "I thought the CIA's not allowed to operate within the United States borders, anyway."

"Like that little law has ever stopped them before," Munch said with a derisive tone.

"I swear to God, John," Elliot said, shaking his head, "if you don't give your paranoid ramblings about the CIA a rest, I will--"

But before Elliot could finish his threat, Simon abruptly flinched as he gazed wide-eyed at something by the doorway. Simon broke into a run, shouting, "Olivia!"

When Elliot stared at the doorway, he was immensely relieved to see a smiling Olivia warmly embrace her brother. Bond stood slightly behind her, giving Olivia and Simon some privacy.

"Hmmm, Melinda's right, he _is_ hot," Casey muttered under her breath as she gazed at Bond.

Elliot frowned at her in disappointment.

"What?" Casey said to him, grinning. "A girl can't admire the view?"

"I'm so sorry, I know I forgot about our lunch," Olivia said to Simon when they broke the embrace. "But I got held up--literally. And I lost my phone."

"I've got it," Elliot said, handing it to her. "We were all so worried about you, Liv. Are you all right?"

"Yeah, we're both ok," she replied, as she hugged him. "Thanks."

"You're the only one I care about, Liv," Elliot said, as he glared at Bond over Olivia's shoulder. "I could really give a fuck less about this prick from Scotland Yard."

If Bond was offended--or frightened--by Elliot's deliberate insult, his icy blue eyes didn't show it. Instead he just stared coolly at Elliot, as if calmly marking him as a potential enemy.

Olivia gave a questioning glance to Bond, who nodded at her in response. "Tell them everything," he said. "We're going to need all the help we can get on this."

"Ok, the first thing is, he's not from Scotland Yard," Olivia told Elliot. "He's a special agent from MI6 on assignment here."

"M-I--what?" Elliot asked, puzzled.

"That's the British Secret Service!" Munch cried.

"Yes," Bond confirmed.

There was a moment of silence as everyone paused to absorb this piece of news.

"So you lied to us before," Cragen said to Bond.

"I was undercover," Bond explained. "But my assignment to find Luke Marcus was on the up and up. He's a part of all of this."

"We heard you were arrested by somebody," Simon said. "But that they gagged you and placed sacks over your heads. What happened?"

"Oh, yeah, those guys," Olivia said, with a peeved look on her face. "They turned out to be the CIA."

"You were grabbed by…the CIA?" Elliot said, stunned.

"The CIA?! Hah! I knew it!" Munch joyfully exclaimed. "See?! You see?! You guys always ignored my 'demented ramblings about the CIA', but this time, the 'crazy paranoid guy' is proven to be right! So eat it, Elliot!"

Elliot just nodded sheepishly at him as he reluctantly muttered, "Uh, yeah, sorry, John…."

"Oh, man," Fin groaned. "Munch is going to be insufferable from now on!"

"There's more to this story," Olivia solemnly said. "A lot more."

"Why don't we continue this conversation in my office?" Cragen offered.

_B&B_

"And that's it," Olivia finished with a heavy sigh. "You guys now know as much as 007 and I do about the situation."

She gazed at the crowd of people who sat around her and Bond. Elliot, Munch, Fin, Casey, Cragen and Simon all looked ashen as an uneasy silence broke out in the office. Poor Casey, whose skin was usually alabaster in color, looked even more pale than usual.

"Sweet Jesus, Liv," Elliot finally said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, that's my feeling, too," Fin muttered, looking dazed.

Munch leaned forward, staring thoughtfully down at the ground. He had removed his shades, and the concern in his eyes was apparent to Olivia.

"You just referred to him as 007, Liv." Munch glanced at Bond. "Are you with the Double-O sector of MI6?"

"Yes," Bond said with an appreciative nod. "You know quite a lot about us, Detective Munch."

"It's a hobby," Munch muttered.

"How are they planning to use the nukes?" Elliot asked. "I mean, are they planning to just explode the nukes, or are they using them to build dirty bombs?"

"Marko--or, as you know him, Marcus--is one of the premiere bomb builders in the world," Bond said. "He's capable of building any kind of bomb he's paid to build."

"So with somebody like that, chances are good that we're dealing with live nukes exploding," Elliot said dejectedly.

"I'd count on it," Bond replied quietly. "And that's all the more reason why we need to find Marko as soon as possible. Because if we find him, we find the bombs."

"You'll have whatever help we can give you," Cragen firmly told him. "From this point on, the SVU will be working on this case exclusively."

"I appreciate it, Captain," Bond said. "I'd also appreciate it if what was spoken here didn't leave the room--at least for now."

"Very well," Cragen said, as he stood up. "So let's get moving, people. Munch, Fin, you two drop whatever case you're working on and start gathering every file we have on Luke Marcus."

"You mean Marko?" Fin asked.

"We know him as Marcus, so that's the name we'll find him under," Cragen said.

Fin shook his head in disgust as he walked out of Cragen's office. "We had the mother right in the interogattion room not too long ago--if only we knew then who he really was!"

Olivia was about to speak to Simon when Munch abruptly tugged her arm. "Could we go someplace private?"

"Uh, sure," Olivia replied. She wondered what he wanted to talk about as she followed Munch into an unused interrogation room.

Munch turned to face her and said, "You know, it's not enough that Bond's with MI6, but he's got to be a member of the Double-O Sector on top of it."

Olivia knew what was coming: yet another screed on the evils of the CIA and its counterpart agencies. "Look, John…."

"No, just listen to me, Liv, please," he said softly. "Do you know exactly what the Double-O Sector is? It's a black ops organization within MI6. Essentially, you're dealing with a black ops group _within_ a black ops group. The Double-O agents have what's known as a licence to kill, and they use it, believe me! That section was created in the aftermath of the Second World War so they could hunt down Nazis who were on the run. Apparently, the Queen liked having her own private army of assasins, and so the Double-O agents were made a branch of MI6. These guys are killers, Olivia. That's who your partner, Bond, really is. He's an assassin, and if he's anything like the other eight Double-O agents, he's a very scary person."

After seeing him in action, Olivia had no doubt that Bond could be very scary. Yet something she had witnessed today had scared her even more. "John, I watched a man commit suicide right before my eyes, just so he could avoid arrest," she said. "I know you're no fan of these black ops types, and you have a point about how they sometimes abuse their power. But we're fighting some very scary people, here. And sometimes you need scary people to fight scary people."

"I understand that," Munch said with a nod. "But I just wanted to make sure you understood who you were dealing with."

"Believe me, I do," Olivia replied, as they strolled out of the interrogation room. "But our city, our home, is at risk. And I'd work with the devil himself if it meant saving it."

"Just be careful that you don't lose your soul in the process," Munch said.

"There you are!" Fin called from over a pile of files that had been heaped on his desk. "You think I'm gonna go through all this by myself, you're nuts, Munch! Get on over here!"

Olivia looked around for Simon, but could not find him. She found Bond over by the coffee machine, making a cup for himself. "You only drink tea, don't you?" he asked. "I would have made you a cup, but I couldn't find the tea bags."

"That's because I keep them in my desk," Olivia said. "Have you seen where Simon went?"

"He went off someplace to make a phone call," Bond replied. "As did your partner, Elliot."

"Oh," Olivia said, with a sheepish look. "I think they're probably calling family. Sorry, James, but it looks like your wish to keep this quiet may not stay that way for very long."

"That's all right," he said. "If I were in their place, I'd be calling my loved ones the first chance I got, too." He gestured at the pot. "I've got the water boiled; go get a tea bag and I'll pour you a cup."

"Ok, thanks," Olivia replied, as she went over to her desk to retrieve a bag of green tea. Olivia broke into a smile as she mused, 'For a guy who works for a scary black ops bunch, James is still one of the nicest, most polite men I've ever met!'

_B&B_

'Come on, come on, answer it,' Elliot impatiently thought, as he stood in the empty locker room with his cell phone by his ear.

"Yeah, hello?!" Kathy, his ex-wife said as she answered the phone. She sounded harried, and out of breath.

"Kathy, it's me," Elliot said. "Look, I--"

"Yeah, Elliot! I'm glad you called. Would you mind picking the kids up a little earlier than usual this Saturday?"

"Kathy, please listen to me," Elliot said. "This is very important--"

"Oh, let me guess, you're involved in yet another heavy case and you can't take the kids this weekend, right?" she asked, sounding annoyed.

"Kathy, I want you to take the kids to your mother's right now," Elliot told her. "And I want you to stay there with them."

There was a pause on the line. "Elliot, wha--what the hell are you talking about?" she sputtered. "You know my mother just moved to Florida! How can I…what the…just tell me what's going on!"

"You're right, we got a heavy case, a really big one," he admitted. "I can't tell you the details over the phone. But just in case things don't go well, I want you and the kids out of the city--as _far_ away from the city as possible."

"Oh sweet Jesus, Elliot," Kathy moaned. "What the hell is going on?! Please tell me you're just joking with me…."

"No, I'm not joking--"

"If this is just one of those nasty divorce pranks that ex-husbands pull on their ex-wives, you can tell me, Elliot."

"No, I would never do that to you, Kathy," he said. "Look, I know I'm asking a lot of you right now. But I would never say something like this if I didn't think there was…you know, if there was a good chance of something going wrong."

"I don't have the money for all of us to go to Florida right now, I just bought the twins' band uniforms!" Kathy said, panic creeping into her voice.

"I'll give you the money to get you and the kids to your mother's and back," Elliot said. "Just please do as I say, Kathy, and get yourself and the kids out of the city, all right?"

"We're coming over there," she angrily told him. "You can't tell me over the phone? Fine. Maybe you can tell us face to face just what the fuck is going on!"

"Kathy, wait, don't--oh shit," Elliot muttered, once he realized the phone was dead.

'Damnit,' Elliot thought, as he gently tapped the cell phone against the side of his head. Now, more than ever, he missed being a part of his family. Elliot had wanted nothing more than go back to the house right now and be with Kathy and the kids. The last great crisis they had faced together as a family had been 9/11, and Elliot fondly recalled how they all stuck together in the frightening days after the attacks. The kids were home from school, he was home from work, and all six of them had huddled together on the couch in the living room and watched the news for hours on end--until the moment when Elliot woke up and realized that they had all fallen asleep together, with the TV still burbling in the background. And in that instant, Elliot had never felt so safe, so content, in his entire life.

And now they were facing an even greater nightmare and Elliot felt miserable, as if he had been cast off from his family.

"Hey, El?" a voice asked tentatively from behind him.

He turned and saw Olivia was standing there, gazing at him with concern.

'Well, maybe I'm not cut off from _all_ of my family,' Elliot realized with a slight smile. "Hey Liv."

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just called Kathy. Tried to warn her without mentioning anything about the case. Didn't go well. She's coming here, demanding answers."

"Yikes!" Olivia said, making a face.

As they both started walking back to the bull pen, Elliot waved his hand. "I know Mr. British Superspy wanted us to keep a lid on this, but--"

"It's ok, James understands," Olivia told him. "Hell, Fin and Simon called their families just now. Besides, thanks to all the people in this precinct who are now secretly calling their loved ones, New York City should already be evacuated by midnight tonight."

Elliot knew she was just joking to keep his spirits up, yet it bothered him greatly that she referred to Bond by his first name. "I see you've already gotten pretty cozy with the guy."

Olivia shot him a look. "What, are you jealous?"

"NO!" Elliot growled. When he realized that came out more harshly than he expected, Elliot began to wonder if he actually _was_ jealous of Olivia being with Bond.

'But it was just a working partnership between them, that's all,' he thought. Then it occurred to Elliot that it was a little silly to be worrying about something like this while New York City was facing a major crisis. "Is Simon still here?"

Olivia shook her head. "He went home."

Elliot sincerely wished that he could do the same.

When they entered the bull pen, Fin held up a sheet of paper. "Got something. Marko--A.K.A. Marcus--owns a building over on the West Side."

"It's in the Hell's Kitchen neighborhood, which sounds apt, doesn't it?" Munch commented.

"Hell's Kitchen?" Bond asked with a frown. "Where is that?"

"I know where it is," Olivia said, after getting the file from Fin. "You can drive, James. I'll give directions."

Bond nodded. "Sounds like a deal. Let's go check it out."

"Your car has been towed back to the precinct garage," Cragen told them. "You can pick it up downstairs."

"Actually, James has his own ride," Olivia replied with a smile. "It's pretty sweet, too. We'll be taking that."

Elliot, who had just grabbed his jacket in preparation of leaving with Olivia, stopped short and watched with a scowl as she walked out of the bull pen with Bond. He was further irked to see that they were chatting like a a pair of old friends. Olivia didn't even acknowledge Elliot as she left.

'Ok, I guess I'll stay here and help sift through the information we've got on Marko,' Elliot thought. He abruptly realized that it was just as well he stayed, because Kathy was coming over later anyway. He noticed that Casey sat morosely in a chair by the door. It appeared as if she had been on her way out when a sudden fit of depression made her stop.

Elliot came over to the ADA and said, "You ok?"

Casey glanced up and started to nod--until she stopped and said, in a small, frightened voice: "No. I'm scared out of my mind, Elliot."

"I can't say I blame you," he said. He bent over and whispered, "Listen, is there anyplace you can go, someplace far out of the city, for a while?"

That only served to make Casey even more alarmed. "Oh, my God, Elliot!"

"I don't mean to scare you," he quickly said. Although, judging from the phone call he just had with Kathy, he seemed to be making a bad habit of scaring the pants of off people today. "But we need to think about what to do just in case…you know…."

"Just in case the city gets vaporized by a nuclear blast?" Casey blandly finished for him.

Now it was Elliot's turn to feel a chill run up his spine. "Yeah…."

"I've never felt so…helpless before," Casey said softly.

As he glanced down the corridor where Olivia and Bond had left, Elliot murmured, "Believe me, Case, I know just how you feel…."

_B&B_

When Jergens arrived on the bridge of the Icelander, the captain nodded at him and said, "We're almost there, sir."

Jergens could see that for himself. The Verrazano-Narrows Bridge could be seen emerging from the mist ahead of them. Once they went under it, the next port of call would be New York City.

"Excellent work, Captain," Jergens said, smiling with pleasure. He left the bridge and went below to a secret compartment at the very bottom of the massive yacht. The gleaming chamber housed two large cases that were olive drab in color with writing on the sides that were in Russian.

A team of men dressed in overalls all snapped to attention once he arrived. They all had shaven heads and stood with a military bearing.

"We're entering New York harbor," Jergens informed them. "Get ready!"

As the men began their preparations, Jergens could not help but smile. 'Soon, Operation Diamondhead shall be underway,' he thought with excitement. 'It was a shame the Master decided to go back to headquarters. He should be here to enjoy firsthand the glory that Spectre will achieve by bringing the United States to its knees.'

_B&B_

"Right here," Olivia said, gesturing at the dilapidated building on their right.

"This is it?" Bond asked, as he brought the Aston Martin to a stop by the side of the street. The car purred as he examined the building, which looked like a boarded-up brownstone that hasn't seen any tenants in ages.

"Place looks run-down and abandoned," Olivia noted. "Probably a dead end."

But Bond knew better. "You'd be surprised, Liv. The worst rat traps often make the best hideouts."

He shut the car off and got out--but not before getting a pair of special sunglasses from the glove box.

"It's a little late in the day for shades, isn't it?" Olivia asked, indicating the darkening skies. "Unless you're like Munch, who wears shades all day long."

"These are not quite the same shades that you have in mind," Bond replied, as he placed the night vision goggles--which were slimmed down to the size of ordinary eyeglasses--over his eyes. Both Olivia, as well as the landscape around her, were cast in a greenish glow as Bond scanned the abandoned building with the night vision goggles. After a sweep of the area, Bond said, "Looks like you were right, Liv. This place appears to be abandoned."

"Is that a night vision thing?" Olivia asked, with longing in her voice.

"Yes," Bond said with a smile. He took them off and handed them to her. "Want to try it out?"

"Sure!" She eagerly put them on and looked all over the building with them over her eyes. Bond stood lookout, with one hand close by the Walter, just in case somebody tried to surprise them. "Hey, this is cool! I could have used this to sneak out of Dave's apartment that night."

Bond shot her a curious look. "And what were you doing sneaking around some bloke's apartment at night?"

"Uh…it was just a one night stand that was a big mistake," she said, sounding sheepish. "Nothing happened, he was too drunk and fell asleep on me. Whoa, what's that light?"

"What light? Where?" Bond wanted to know.

Olivia handed him the night vision glasses and Bond put them back on. He took a step forward and aimed the glasses right where Olivia pointed. He saw a blinking light that emitted from one of the ground floor windows of the abandoned building. The blinking light shone a beam across the ground, and when Bond glanced down at his feet, he saw that he had broke the beam.

'It's another one of Marko's bloody toys!' he thought in a panic. 'And I just broke the beam of a laser!'

"Get back to the car, now!" Bond shouted, as he grabbed Olivia's arm.

"What is it?" she cried, running along side of him.

"Something very bad, trust me!"

Just as they reached the Aston Martin, Bond's eyes grew wide as a humungous flash, accompanied by a horrific roar, erupted from behind them. It felt as if the very gates of hell itself had been opened, and all that dwelled within were bearing right down on him and Olivia.

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

I'd like to thank Andrea, futureforensic, and georgesgurl117 for their great feedback.

**Benson & Bond**

**Chapter Five**

There was no time to get into the Aston Martin, so Bond did the next best thing.

Grabbing Olivia, he dived down behind the car, and held her protectively up against him as the explosion roared all around them. Flaming debris rained from above, yet Bond had pressed them both so close against the car that it was able to shield them from everything.

Once the worse was over, Olivia gazed up at him with a stunned, wide-eyed expression.

"Are you all right?" Bond asked her.

"What?!" Olivia said, frowning slightly. "I see your lips moving, but I don't hear anything!"

"The explosion made you deaf," Bond said, as he gently pulled Olivia up to her feet. "Don't worry, it's only temporary. Believe me, I've some experience with this sort of thing."

"Yeah, right!" Olivia said with a pronounced nod. She pointed at her ears. "You know, I think the explosion has made me deaf!"

Bond quickly hid the smile that erupted across his face with his hand. "C'mon, let's get in the car," he told her loudly. "It's a waste of time to remain here now, anyway."

"Uh, yeah!" Olivia replied, yet the perplexed look on her face told Bond that she still couldn't understand him. Inside the car would be the best place for Olivia to regain her hearing.

As soon as they got in and shut the doors, Olivia began opening her mouth as wide as it would go in an effort to pop her ears.

"Feeling better?" Bond asked, as he started the car.

"Yeah, I--hey, I can hear you now," she commented with a smile. The smile faded once she glanced out the windshield. "Who the hell's that?"

Bond saw them. Two men standing a ways down the street, watching them intently. They were cast in shadows by the streetlight behind them, hiding their features. One of the men raised what looked like a cell phone to his ear and began speaking.

"Why don't we go and find out?" Bond said, as he stepped on the gas.

Once the men saw the Aston Martin charge towards them, they both turned and got into a large sedan which took off down the street.

"Hang on, Liv," Bond said, as he pursued the sedan. "You'd better strap in for good measure."

"Oh Christ," Olivia muttered, as she buckled herself into the seat. "Here we go again!"

The sedan made a tight turn onto a main drag, cutting off a taxi as it did. Bond stayed right on its tail, chasing it down another side street. When he caught the flash of a set of headlights in the rearview mirror, he realized there was another sedan right behind them. "We've got company."

Olivia glanced out the back window. "They don't look like cops."

"Probably a back up team for the goons ahead of us," Bond said.

And sure enough, the car ahead of them abruptly came to a stop, swerving as it did. It stopped sideways, effectively blocking the street in front of them.

"Hang on," Bond said, as he flipped a switch on the console between the front seats. There was a slight whirring sound as the twin battering rams moved out into position on the front of the Aston Martin. Once they locked onto the reinforced steel frame of the undercarriage, the battering rams were ready.

"What are you doing?" Olivia asked.

"Going through them," Bond casually announced.

"Sweet Jesus," Olivia cried, as the Aston Martin slammed right into the sedan that tried to blockade them. The force of the impact, thanks to the Aston Martin's size and weight, effortlessly flung the enemy vehicle to the side of the street as if it were so much trash.

"Now for our other friends," Bond said, as he stepped on the brake and twisted the steering wheel.

This caused the Aston Martin to spin in a tight circle in the street, making a 180 degree turn, until it now faced the car that had been behind it. The men in that sedan all stared at the Aston Martin with renewed horror. Bond reached down and flipped a second switch on the console, which caused twin sets of double barreled machine guns to emerge from the front grill of the Aston Martin.

The driver of the sedan tried to back up, but then Bond opened fire with the Aston Martin's machine guns, and the front tires of the sedan, along with most of the front end itself, were cut to ribbons by the barrage of bullets.

Bond was about to get out and capture the men in the disabled sedan, until one of them got out of the car and opened fire on the Aston Martin with a machine gun. He made sure to stay behind one of the car's doors for protection.

Bond swerved the Aston Martin to the side and then opened fire with the front end machine guns. This time, the bullets ripped into the shooter's legs, knocking him to the ground. Bond saw that the other men in the car had made a run for it down the street. The devastated sedan blocked their way, yet that was not a problem.

Bond turned to Olivia--yet before he could warn her, she just wearily nodded her head and muttered, "Yeah, yeah, I know…hold on."

"Good to see you're getting the hang of this," Bond said, as he stomped on the accelerator and smashed the Aston Martin right into the sedan. As expected, the Aston Martin easily shoved it's way past the sedan, which also plowed over the hapless prone shooter.

Bond saw the men who fled the sedan running into an office building, entering a large lobby area with floor to ceiling glass walls. When the security guards rose from their station to challenge them, the men shot them down…as well as just about everybody else in the lobby of the building.

"Oh Christ," Olivia muttered, as Bond drove the Aston Martin straight up onto the sprawling central plaza of the office building. He drove the car right through the glass walls of the lobby, aiming the Aston Martin's front end at the group of men--who were all still shooting.

Bond opened fire once more with the front end machine guns and effortlessly mowed down the men. Yet there was something wrong. Three men got out of the car, but he only got two just now. Where was the third?

Olivia suddenly pointed and said, "Frankenstein's getting away! The middle elevator there, see?"

When Bond glanced over at where she pointed, he just barely caught a glimpse of a tall man grabbing a young woman and forcing her to get into the elevator with him. "I see him," Bond said, as they got out of the car. "Why'd you call him Frankenstein?"

"Because he had a big scar running down his face, and his eye was all white," Olivia said with a grimace.

"Mr. Ott?" Bond replied with a start.

"You know him?"

"I've heard of him," Bond said, as he pulled out his gun and ran towards the elevators. He tossed Olivia the keys to the Aston and started running towards the bank of elevators. "You stay with the car!"

"The hell I will," Olivia responded, as she ran alongside him. "I'm coming with you."

Bond gave her a double-take. But there was no time to argue, now. He ran up to the bank of elevators. He glanced at what floor the elevator Mr. Ott got on stopped at, and saw it was the 10th. When he saw another elevator starting to close he ran for it, calling, "Hold that bloody lift!"

"Get your own!" a man called as the door continued to close. "Asshole!"

Bond stuck his hand into the narrowing gap and halted the elevator door. As it slid back open, Bond glared into the anxious face of the man who meekly stood by himself in the elevator.

"Uh, hey, look," he said nervously, "I-I didn't mean anything before, you know? So, nothing personal, ok?"

The man's eyes bulged in terror as Bond grabbed him by the throat and tossed him right out of the elevator. As the man lay sprawled on the floor, staring dumb-founded at him, Bond smiled and said, "Nothing personal, old chap."

"Please excuse him," Olivia told the man, as she got into the elevator with Bond. "He's British, and he gets very cranky when he hasn't had his afternoon tea yet."

Once the elevator doors had shut, Bond pressed the button for the ninth floor. He didn't want to ride the elevator all the way up to the same floor where Mr. Ott got off--just in case the bastard was lying in wait for him.

He turned to Olivia and said, "What the bloody hell you think you're doing, anyway? I thought I told you to wait by the car."

"You asked for me to be your partner," Olivia coolly replied, as she pulled out her Glock. "And so I'm coming with you to watch your back. That's what partners do, James. Deal with it. Now who is this Mr. Ott?"

Bond was about to argue, but thought better of it.

"He's a legendary assassin, one who took out an entire cadre of ex-KGB men all on his own," Bond answered, as he waited impatiently for the elevator to deposit them on the ninth floor. "The fact that he's working for this bunch means we're dealing with a pretty big league group--or at least a group with very deep pockets, because Ott doesn't come cheap."

Olivia looked a little anxious. "This Ott guys sounds scary."

"He's one of the scariest men alive," Bond said with a smile. "And I can't wait to meet him."

_B&B_

When M strode into the situation room at CIA headquarters, Felix Leiter groaned inwardly. He wasn't sure he wanted to see the scene that was about to transpire, yet a part of him did want to watch--sort of like how a viewer couldn't take their eyes off the scary parts of a horror movie, no matter how repulsed they were by it.

"There she is!" the mayor exclaimed, when he saw M. "I'd like a word with you!"

"Yes, Mr. Mayor?" M asked, all sweetness.

"The FBI and the NYPD has informed me that we've got an all-out war breaking out in the streets," the mayor cried. "And that it's being caused by your man, this 007! That maniac of yours is single-handedly causing a mass slaughter of terrorists on the streets of my city, and I want to know what do you have to say to that?!"  
M flashed him a broad grin and replied, "That's my boy."

Then she abruptly went over to the refreshment table and got herself a cup of tea.

The mayor just stood by himself in the center of the room with a puzzled expression on his face. Knowing what M _could_ have done to him, all Felix could think was how lucky the man was to have gotten away relatively intact.

_B&B_

Bond and Olivia arrived on the 10th floor via the stairwell. They slipped through the doorway in a low crouch, with their guns covering every possible ambush point. When Olivia heard whimpering, she glanced at Bond. He nodded; he heard it too. They cautiously followed the sound around a corner, until they came upon the sight before them.

Mr. Ott stood holding a woman--the same woman he took hostage downstairs--up against him, using her as a shield, as he aimed his gun at the bank of elevators, waiting for Bond to arrive.

Olivia's eyes went wide when she saw Bond take aim at Mr. Ott. But then she became relieved when he whispered, "Her head's too close to his for a clean shot."

"Let's try it this way," Olivia whispered back.

She stood up behind the wall and shouted, "Yo! Anybody here order a pizza?!"

Mr. Ott was so caught off guard by that question--as well as the direction from where it came from--that he swung around in Bond's direction, moving well away from the hostage to give Bond a clear shot.

And he took it.

Bond fired right into Mr. Ott's chest, the impact of the bullets knocking the man back into an office cubicle. Realizing she was in the clear, the woman kicked off her heels and ran screaming down the hallway.

'Good girl,' Olivia thought. 'As panicked as she was, she still had the good sense to get the fuck out of Dodge the first chance she got.'

She stepped out from behind the corner--until Bond grabbed her and shoved Olivia back behind cover.

That was when Mr. Ott abruptly stood up from behind a wall of the cubicle and opened fire, spraying bullets all over the office.

"Bloody body armor," Bond muttered to Olivia. "Leave it to this bastard to think of everything."

"You surprised me, Mr. Bond," Mr. Ott called out. "But then again, I should have expected a stinking mutt like you to take the coward's way out by sneaking up on me."

Bond let out a laugh. "You were using that poor woman as a shield, so who's the bloody coward here, Mr. Ott? Listen, you want a stand up fight, just say so, old boy. Step right on out. I'll go for the head shot this time."

"Always joking around, you Double-O agents," Mr. Ott said. His voice sounded like he had moved to the other side of the room. "Your fellow agent, 005, also made jokes, too--just before I blew the top of his head off."

Olivia saw Bond had frowned at that. "Is that true?" she asked.

"He could just be trying to rattle me," Bond said with a shrug. He turned his head towards Ott. "As long as you're in a confessing mood, how about telling me where the bombs are, Ott?"

"Just wait a while, Mr. Bond," he replied, now sounding like he was over by the windows. "You'll know right where they are once they go off."

"But that was always my problem, I'm the impatient sort," Bond called back, as he and Olivia ran in a crouch behind a row of cubicle walls. He paused by the corner, his gun ready. "I want to know everything right…now!"

Bond stuck out his gun from behind the wall and aimed it at where he had heard Ott speaking.

But there was nobody there. All Bond saw was a glass door slowly swinging closed.

"Shit!" Bond muttered. He glanced out the row of windows and saw Ott running over an enclosed walkway that led to a building across the street.

"It's even worse," Olivia told him. "There's a subway station inside that building. Once Ott gets there, he's gone!"

"Wonderful," Bond muttered, as he and Olivia both broke into a run across the walkway.

_B&B_

"Are you all right?" Elliot asked. "You got money?"

"Yeah," Kathy replied. "My mother wired it to me. We got more than enough for the flight."

They all stood awkwardly by his desk in the one six precinct. Night had fallen, and there was only darkness beyond the windows--it was a darkness that chilled Elliot to the bone, for it seemed to be a foreboding of things to come. He hated to think like this; usually he always tried to be the optimist, no matter how dismal the situation. But the thought that he was sending his family away had finally struck home for Elliot.

'All these cops running around, struggling to find leads,' he thought. 'Will we be successful? Will my kids have a home to return to? And if not, what then?'

Although she wore a sweater, Elizabeth kept rubbing her arms as she stared anxiously at her mother and father. It looked as if she expected something to happen between them. Indeed, all of them--Maureen, Kathleen and Dickie--stared at him and Kathy expectantly.

As if on cue, Kathy took a deep breath and said, "You could come with us. There's still time to buy another ticket."

"I'd love to," Elliot reluctantly said, "but I can't."

"Make no mistake, what we had is over," Kathy somberly told him. "But you're still the father of my children, and as such, I want you to remain a big part of their lives."

"I plan on doing just that, Kath," Elliot said. He lowered his head, almost hating himself for what he was about to say next. "But--"

"--you've got a job to do," Kathy said, derisively finishing his sentence for him. "How many times have I heard that before? You're a sex crimes cop, Elliot, not Jack Bauer. All due respect, but why are you even still working this? Isn't this case is a little out of your league?"

"The SVU's no longer the lead investigating unit; the feds have taken over," he confirmed. "But we're still working on it with everybody else. It started with us, Kath, it got dropped into our laps. We're still a part of the overall investigation."

"And when will you finally leave?" she asked. "When it's too late?"

"No, look, there's a lot of people who're putting their lives on the line here," he explained. "One of whom is Olivia, who's helping a spy track down the terrorists even as we speak. I can't just walk away from this right now, Kathy, not while we have a fighting chance."

"Olivia's working with a spy? Cool!" Dickie said excitedly. "Is _he_ like Jack Bauer?"

"Not really," Elliot said. "This guy's British."

"The British are helping us?" Kathleen said, looking impressed. "Is that because we helped them during World War Two?"

"Something like that," Elliot said. "Look, I don't want you guys to miss your plane." He turned to Kathy and added, "If the worst happens, if we can't stop this, I'll be the first to get out of town, I promise."

"By the time you realize you can't stop this, it may be too late," Kathy said. "Is she really worth it, Elliot?"

"Is who worth it?" he asked.

"Never mind," Kathy muttered, as she gathered her things. "C'mon guys, let's go. Say goodbye to Dad."

Elliot hugged the twins, then Kathleen. Maureen came over and gave him a tight embrace, and as she did so, said, "I love you, Daddy. You've always been a hero in my book, so you don't have to do anything now to prove yourself to me."

"Don't worry, honey," he soothed her. "If the you-know-what hits the fan, I'll be the first one bugging out of here, I promise."

"You're really waiting for her, aren't you?" Maureen asked, when they broke their embrace. "Have you even told Olivia how you feel about her, yet?"

Elliot stared at her, stunned. "Olivia?"

Maureen smiled. "Oh, c'mon, Dad. Don't tell me you haven't even admitted your feelings for her to yourself! Your feelings for Liv have always been pretty obvious--especially after you and mom got divorced, you've been broadcasting them like a neon sign."

"Maureen," Kathy called from where she stood at the doorway with the twins and Kathleen. "C'mon, let's go."

"I hope you're not waiting for armageddon to tell Liv how you really feel for her," Maureen said, as she began walking away. "Because, from the looks of things, it may well be right around the corner. So if now isn't the right time, Daddy, then it never will be."

Elliot just stood there, staring after his oldest daughter with amazement, and wondering just at what moment did she become far more smarter than he was.

Munch poked his head up from a file he had been reading and said, "Bingo! I got something, guys."

"What is it?" Elliot asked, coming over to Munch's desk.

"Our boy, Marcus--A.K.A. Marko--has been regularly seeing a doctor on the upper East Side," Munch told him. "An oncologist."

"An oncologist?" Fin asked. "That's a cancer doctor, ain't it?"

Munch nodded. "Correct. The plot thickens."

Elliot frowned at this development. "Marko's got cancer?"

"Wanna go find out?" Munch asked. He tapped the file. "The doc's address is right there."

"One of you clear this with Cragen," Elliot said, "I'll get my jacket. I'm coming with you guys to check out this lead."

"Wait, who said we wanted you to come with us?" Fin asked.

"Since you started telling everybody that I'm cuckolded by Olivia," Elliot snapped back.

Fin's eyes went extremely wide at that comment. He looked for all the world like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

Munch leaned over, pointed at his partner, and said, "BUSTED!"

"Uh, I'll…um, I'll go clear it with Cragen," Fin muttered, as he quickly got out of his seat and ran into the Captain's office.

"Vengeance is so much fun, isn't it?" Munch cheerfully asked.

"I'll settle for evening the score with the bastards who're trying to blow us all up," Elliot said darkly, as he put his jacket on.

When he glanced up, Elliot was surprised to see Casey standing in the doorway of the bull pen. Casually dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, her hair was pulled back into a pony tail. "What's wrong, Case?"

"You mean other than the fact that we all might get blown up at any second?" she asked.

"Why are you still here?" Munch asked her. "I heard the Westfield case never got to court, so you should have some time off. You should be heading for the hills."

"I-I don't know where to go," Casey said, her voice sounding tight with emotion. "Why are you guys still here?"

"We're checking out a lead that Munch found on Marko," Fin replied, as he emerged from Cragen's office. "And we have a go from the Captain, by the way."

Elliot stared at Casey, who looked a little lost and scared right now, and made a decision right then and there. "Come with us," he said to her. "We're going to be talking to a doctor, and we might need the intimidation of an ADA to make him spill the beans."

Casey nodded, and she instantly looked much better, as if relieved to have something to do during this dire time.

As they all walked out of the bull pen, Fin did a double take at Casey and said, "Hey, wait a minute, _you_ told Elliot about the cuckold remark, didn't you?"

Casey rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Give me a break, Fin…."

"I knew it!" Fin said. "I never should have told you in the first place!"

"Well, Elliot always gives me this big-brother/little-sister act," Casey muttered in her defense. "And whenever he does that, I can't help myself!"

"Now, now, children," Munch jokingly said, "if you don't settle down, we're not stopping for ice cream later!"

_B&B_

When they got to the other side of the walkway, Olivia's eyes grew wide when she heard a chorus of screams and cries from further down the hallway. She glanced at Bond and said, "I guess we can take a wild guess as to where Ott went!"

They ran down the hallway, and saw a crowd gathered around a burly man who lay on the floor. He wore a janitor's outfit, and he laid very still with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. An older woman, who looked like an office worker, knelt by the man's body and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Are you cops?" one of the other office workers--a man--asked Olivia. "Somebody just ran up and just shot Verne for no good reason."

"Did you see the man who did this?" she asked him.

"No, but Louise did," he replied, indicating the sobbing woman.

"Louise, Louise," Bond impatiently said. "Louise, listen to me! The man who shot your friend, where did he go? Louise!"

"Why?!" Louise cried. "Why did he just shoot him?! Verne would never hurt a fly! Why, God, why?!"

"Damn it, Louise!" Bond shouted. "Stay focused!"

"Back the fuck off, James," Olivia said, grabbing his arm. "She just lost a close friend!"

"Every second we spend here gives Ott that much more time to get away," Bond snapped at her. "Look, let's check the subway. There may still be time to--"

"No, wait," Olivia said, as she suddenly pointed at the dead man's waist. "Look at that key chain on his belt, it's been ripped off. The keys are gone."

Bond's eyes flared when it struck him. "That's why Ott shot him. He needed the keys to the maintenance area."

"He never bothered going to the subway station after all." Olivia looked around at the people who surrounded them. "Anybody know where the nearest route to the maintenance area is?"

"Down the hall and make a left," a man told them. "It's a pair of big gray doors, you can't miss it."

"You call 911," Olivia told him as she and Bond began running down the hallway.

"Already did," the man called.

Once they reached the doors the man told them about, Olivia and Bond, noticing that they had been left open, pulled out their guns and--on the count of three--barged through.

They found a janitor sitting at a desk with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. His eyes grew very large at the guns which had been pointed at him. Olivia's heart sank at the vastness of the maintenance area, which sprawled out beyond the janitor's office area in a sea of pipes and machinery.

"You see anybody come through here just now?" Bond asked the janitor at the desk. He holstered his weapon.

"No, nobody came through here," the janitor said. "But then again, I just sat down here barely a minute ago."

"Is there any other way out of here?" Olivia asked him. "Any other way to the streets from here?"

"Yeah, there are several exits," the janitor said. "But you need a special key to get pass the doors."

"Which Ott has," Bond said grimly. "It's too late. We lost him."

When she saw him take out his cell phone, Olivia asked, "Who are you calling?"

"The boss," he said curtly. "I've got to report this."

"Better you than me," Olivia said, remembering the temperment of the iron-willed old woman whom James worked for.

_B&B_

"Yes," M muttered, as she scribbled some notes on a blank sheet of paper. "Very well, 007. No, get back here. Let's just gather our resources for now."

When she hung up the phone, she turned to Felix, who sat next to her, and said, "This group we're dealing with, they've got Mr. Ott in their employ. James just ran into him."

Felix looked momentarily stunned before he called a young woman over. "Sarah, call Langley and have them send every scrap of information they have on a Mr. Ott," he told her. "Tell them to send everything, no matter how superfluous it may seem."

"Yes sir," Sarah said with a nod, as she proceeded to make the call.

"Well-financed bastards, aren't they?" Felix commented.

"Yes, I was just thinking the same thing," M replied. "They'd have to be, in order to be able to hire Ott. And the fact that Ott's working for them means something else: they mean business."

Felix just solemnly nodded his head as M glanced over at the pair of technicians who were busy trying to fix the computer in the middle of the conference room. They were all about to receive an update on the radiological scans of the city when the screen went on the fritz. It's been almost ten minutes, now, and they still haven't got the damned thing fixed, yet.

M leaned forward in her seat and glared at the two young men who argued over how best to fix the computer. "Excuse me, but in case you gentlemen haven't noticed, I'm no spring chicken," she said. "So how about we fix the bloody gadget sometime before I kneel over of old age, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am," one of the man nervously said.

"Right away, ma'am," the other man promised.

In no time, the computerized screen was up and running, showing a map of the five boroughs of New York City. An FBI agent got up and gave the report, which showed no signs of any increased dosage of radiation that would indicate the presence of a nuke in any of the five boroughs.

"I trust you're continuing the scans, despite these findings?" the mayor wanted to know.

"Yes, Mr. Mayor," the agent said. "The radiation sniffers are running 'round the clock."

Felix leaned over to M and whispered, "The bomb's not here yet. Maybe this is a hopeful sign."

M shook her head at the map, which showed a mass of radiation sniffers--on land, in the air and on the water--that covered the greater New York area. "If the bomb's not here yet, then how in the bloody hell do the terrorists plan on getting it past this cordon?"

_B&B_

"And this is Natalie Preston, for Channel 7, Eyewitness news," the reporter said, smiling.

She kept smiling until the cameraman told her they were off the air. She handed her microphone to her soundman and walked across the plush carpeting of the luxurious lounge area on board the Icelander. The super-yacht, which was docked on the west side of New York City, had a splendid view of Manhattan.

Natalie strode up to the Icelander's owner, Mr. Jergens and said, "Thanks again for letting us broadcast from your yacht, Mr. Jergens."

"The pleasure was all mine, Ms. Preston," he said. "Besides, you still did me a favor by letting your viewers know about the free tours that we're offering aboard the Icelander."

"That's something else which amazes me about you, sir," Natalie said, smiling. "I don't know if I'd let anybody pay to board a beautiful boat like this, let alone give free tours! What you're doing is really wonderful."

"I've been a very fortunate man, Ms. Preston," Jergens said, growing thoughtful. "And I believe firmly in giving back in anyway I can. These free tours of the Icelander are my small way of saying 'thank you' to the citizens of New York City."

When Natalie walked back to her crew, who were busy packing up their gear, Rodger, her soundman, said, "Chatting it up with Donald Trump, uh?"

"Don't knock the guy," Natalie told him. "He's a great humanitarian. We could all use more decent men like Mr. Jergens."

_B&B_

Once the news crew were off his boat, Jergens went below to the bomb room. He was pleased to see that it was already flooded, with the bottom doors wide open, and the scuba teams were leading the bombs on their underwater journey to the safe house further down the pier. Earlier, Lucien Marko had called to confirm his arrival at the safe house--he and his team were already waiting for the bombs.

'Everything was going according to plan,' Jergens thought with a satisfied nod. 'At this rate, Operation Diamondhead will begin within the hour.'

**To Be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

_I'd like to thank Ad Hominem Argument and georgesgurl117 for their kinds words. Thanks! _

**Benson & Bond**

**Chapter Six**

'Why am I here?' Casey thought, as she sat in the elegantly decorated waiting room with Elliot, Munch, and Fin.

She thought about the idea of New York City being evaporated within a nuclear blast, and it sent chills down her spine. And yet, although she had ample time to leave the city, Casey had remained. Despite the numbing terror she felt, Casey just couldn't bring herself to leave. And as she patiently sat waiting for the oncologist to see them, Casey searched within herself for the answer why--why had she made the suicidal choice to remain in a city that very well may be doomed?

'Because there are people here who are still fighting for it,' she realized. There were a group of determined individuals--James Bond, Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, John Munch, Fin Tutuola, and many others--who were not ready to give up on the Big Apple. They remained behind, against all odds, to fight for this city, and Casey quickly realized that she had made the right decision after all. Running out of the city just didn't seem right; it felt like she was a rat deserting a sinking ship. Staying behind with the boys made Casey feel better--it gave her a purpose in these dark times.

'We're all trying to make sure New York will be around to see the next sunrise, and many more after that,' she thought. 'That's a pretty noble cause, and if we should wind up getting nuked…well, at least we went out fighting.'

Doctor Farina emerged from a side door and walked over to them. Although they all stood up, Casey noted that the doctor--who was dark-haired, and in his mid-thirties--stared only at her. He gave Casey a quick, approving glance up and down her body and said, "Hello, how may I help you?"

Elliot, who was all ready to speak before the doctor snubbed him, simply shrugged and furtively gestured at Casey to take the lead.

"Dr. Farina, I'm Casey Novak, with the District Attorney's Office," she said, presenting her credentials. This appeared to impress the doctor even more. "These gentlemen are detectives with the NYPD. Is there someplace private where we can talk?"

"Sure, my office," he replied. Farina turned and led them through the side door and into a plush office that was decorated with pictures of himself on various fishing trips. A giant swordfish was on display on the wall behind his desk. He gestured for Casey to take the only seat right in front of his desk--once again ignoring the other three men, who stood awkwardly by the door.

"Oh, sorry, guys," Farina said, as if just noticing Elliot, Munch and Fin for the first time. "Let me get chairs for you…."

"That's ok, we're fine," Elliot told him.

Casey got right to business. "Dr. Farina, do you have a patient by the name of Luke Marcus?"

Farina settled into the chair behind his desk with an uneasy look. "What exactly is this about?"

"We're involved in an investigation of the utmost importance," Casey told him, "and Luke Marcus, a.k.a. Lucien Marko, is a part of that investigation. We have information which states that he's a patient of yours. Is this true?"

Farina shook his head. "As much as I would love to help you Ms. Novak, I'm afraid I can't reveal anything of a private nature regarding any of my patients. Not unless you have a search warrant."

"No, we don't," Casey replied with a sigh.

"Well, then, I can't help you." Farina gave her a shrug. "Sorry."

"It's imperative that we get the information that we need from you," Casey said, trying a different tactic. "In fact, it's vital that we get it right now. Our investigation involves the federal government at the highest levels, Dr. Farina. We can go back to the feds and inform them of what you told us. But I can assure you that our partners in this case--the FBI, the CIA, and the NSA, among others--probably won't ask you as nicely as I am right now."

Casey noted that Farina now looked anxious. "In fact," she pressed, "thanks to these new anti-terrorist laws that we now have, they're more than likely to come in here and tear your offices apart, while you and your staff are placed under arrest for--"

"Luke Marcus was a patient here," Farina abruptly said. "But I only saw him once."

"Why only one time?" Elliot asked.

"Because he's a terminal case," Farina said. "There was nothing I could do for him."

"How long does he have?" Munch wanted to know.

"Weeks, at the most," Farina grimly replied. "What's he done?"

"It's what he's gonna do that we're trying to stop," Fin muttered.

When she saw Farina's overly nervous reaction at that, Casey asked, "Are you aware of who and what Marcus really is?"

"He told me he was an accountant," the doctor answered. "But I had my suspicions. The type of cancer he had…well, I couldn't say for sure, but it seemed like he had been exposed to some pretty intense radiation. He had lesions. I suspected he might have worked with nuclear materials."

"Why did he come to see you?"

"To see if anything could be done," Farina said. "It was a last-ditch effort. When I confirmed for him that the cancer was too far gone, he appeared to accept his fate. He muttered something about going to France to take care of some loose ends."

Just when Casey thought she couldn't be any more scared than she was now, the thought of a dying man in possession of nukes somewhere in New York City had just pushed her fear into a new level. Because a dying man, one who has but weeks to live, had absolutely nothing to lose at all--and that made him one very scary adversary.

"Could we see his file?" Elliot asked.

When Farina appeared reluctant to hand it over, Casey said, "You will not be involved in this. You have my word as an Assistant District Attorney of New York City."

When Farina handed the file over to Casey, he said, "Hope this helps."

"It's a major help, Doctor. Thank you." Casey had turned to leave with the detectives, until Farina called after her.

"Here, take this," he said, handing Casey his card. "In case you need anything else…or, you know, if you should ever feel like getting coffee some time…Casey."

Casey stared up at the doctor's smiling face, and was stunned when she realized that he was actually flirting with her. She was sorely tempted to say, 'Sure, doc, if the city hasn't been reduced to a radioactive pile of dust within the next few days, I'll be sure to give ya a call!' But, instead, Casey simply said, "Uh, yeah, right…."

As she left the office with the boys, Casey felt dazed and a little numb--so much so that she was still stupidly clutching the doctor's card in her hand as they rode down in the elevator. Casey saw that Munch was already busy looking through the files on Marcus, while Elliot had taken out his cell.

"C'mon, pick up, Liv," Elliot impatiently muttered, as he held the cell to his ear. "Pick up, pick up--damn, bad reception…I'll try her again outside."

Just when Casey felt as if he was on the verge of losing what little hope she had left, Fin suddenly leaned over to her and gestured at the doctor's card in her hand. "Here we are, facing nuclear annihilation, and you're busy picking up guys, you shameless hussy…."

Casey blinked at him, uncomprehendingly, for a second. Then she burst into a fit of giddy laughter that washed away all the anxiety that had gripped her very soul. "Oh, Jesus, Fin! It's not that I didn't need that--I did--but how can you even joke at a time like this?"

"It's because we're the cavalry," Fin told her, still smiling. "Forget the feds and all these super spies; we'll be the ones who'll ride in at the last second to save everybody's bacon."

"That may well be true," Munch said, staring excitedly at something in the file.

"What'd you find?" Elliot asked.

"An address for Marcus, one that's not listed anyplace else," Munch said. "It's out on Long Island."

"Y'see?" Fin said to Casey. "That's what I'm talking about. We're the cavalry, baby."

"A lot of good that info is gonna do if we can't get it to the right people in time," Elliot said, impatiently waiting for the elevator doors open. "Come on, already!"  
As if surrendering to his rage, the elevator dinged as it stopped. Once the doors opened, Elliot, Munch, Fin and Casey all ran into the lobby with frantic intensity. And as she ran, Casey felt her inner being swell up with something that she hadn't felt since this nightmare first started: hope.

_B&B_

When Bond entered the office, he was surprised at the sight that greeted him.

Olivia Benson sat slumped in the plush chair, sound asleep.

'She deserves it,' he thought, placing the cup of tea he got for Olivia down on the table before her. He was greatly impressed at how she had effortlessly kept up with him throughout his relentless pursuit of Mr. Ott.

He sat down in a chair across from the sleeping woman and took a sip of his own tea. Bond couldn't help but admire Olivia's beauty. She was similar to Vesper in that they were both extremely beautiful women, both inside and out--yet the major difference between them was Olivia's toughness. Where Vesper was a delicate flower who was tough in her own subtle way, Olivia was practically a warrior who wasn't shy about getting her hands dirty.

And yet there was a soft side to Olivia, as well. Bond was just starting to see that for himself, after nearly a full day of working with her. Despite her street-bred toughness, Olivia was still filled with compassion.

'You're falling for her, mate,' a voice at the back of his mind told him. He felt a flash of guilt, until he realized that there was no reason to feel guilty: Vesper was dead, after all. Still, Bond wasn't sure about a relationship with Olivia; he had bared his soul to Vesper, only to be betrayed by her. It wasn't just guilt that prevented him from wanting a closer relationship with Olivia, but the deep mistrust that dwelled within him, like a hate-filled ogre which resided in the deepest, darkest recess with his soul.

Olivia abruptly awoke with a start. She momentarily stared at Bond with a frightened look before she leaned forward and cradled her head in her hands.

"You all right?" Bond asked with concern.

"Yeah, frigging dream," she muttered. "All I could see was Louise screaming her head off, and there was nothing I could do to help her."

Bond frowned. "Who's Louise?"

Olivia shot him an annoyed look. "The poor woman who was grieving over Verne, the dead janitor. Remember?"

"Ah, yes," Bond replied with a grimace.

"You're not one for dealing with petty details--like the victims--are you?" Olivia angrily snapped.

Bond gazed coolly at her. He recalled how M once referred to him as being a blunt instrument, and she had been right. "I'm afraid that's a luxury that I can ill afford in my line of work," he calmly stated.

"Why? Is it because you're one of the guys who _makes_ victims?" Olivia tartly said.

"Quite right," Bond said softly.

Olivia slowly shook her head. "I suppose the fact that you're doing it for Queen and Country is what makes it all right, huh?"

"That and preventing your fair city from being nuked," Bond added. "It's just that sort of thing helps me to sleep at night…whenever I can get to sleep."

From the way her expression quickly became sheepish, Bond figured his reply had taken her by surprise. Yet before either of them could say anything else, Felix appeared at the door.

"James, Olivia, you need to see this," he urgently said.

When Bond and Olivia joined Felix, M and the others gathered in the main conference room at CIA headquarters, he saw an image of a white cat on the massive plasma screen. "What's this?" he asked with a frown.

"Just watch," M curtly told him. She nodded to a technician. "Run it again."

"This was put online about an hour ago on a secure, untraceable server," Felix whispered to Bond and Olivia.

The cat made purring sounds as a man's hand began to stroke it's head and neck. The camera was positioned so that his face was never shown. Then a firm, cold voice began to speak. "This is Spectre. We are in possession of the remaining two nuclear warheads that had been appropriated from the Russians nearly a month ago. Their serial codes are as follows: 2093-X897 and 8938-Z920. Check with your intelligence services, and you will see that these codes match those of the two remaining nuclear devices that are missing from the Russian armory."

"We already checked," Felix said to Bond and Olivia. "He's got them."

"Unless you wish to see New York City evaporate in a blinding flash of nuclear fire," the voice continued, "you will pay Spectre fifteen billion dollars worth of diamonds to be delivered at a time and place of our choosing. You must signal your agreement to pay this amount to us by lowering the American flag outside of Gracie Mansion to half mast. This must be done no later than 12:00 PM tomorrow Eastern Standard Time. If we do not see this signal, then we will assume that you do not agree to pay the money, and we shall set off the bombs. If you do agree to pay, you shall wait for a further communication from us with further details."

"It's just a case of bloody extortion, from a cat lover, no less!" M said, sounding royally miffed.

Bond glanced at his watch. It was now 12:36 am--less than twelve hours before the deadline. "Will Washington pay?"

"Unless we can somehow stop it before it comes to that," Felix said.

"The radiation sniffers still haven't picked up anything!" the mayor cried. "How do we know they really have the bombs here?!"

"Good question," M said. "We know they have the bombs, but we don't really know their location. I'd still like to know how they snuck them past the army of sniffers we've got running all over the city."

"New York's surrounded by water," a voice quietly said.

Bond, M, Felix and everybody else all glanced at Olivia, who was the one who spoke. Looking uneasy at being in the spotlight, she just gave a shy shrug. "All I'm saying is maybe they brought the nukes in on a boat."

"Nonsense!" the mayor told her, waving his hand. "All suspicious boats have been checked."

"Suspicious boats?" Bond asked with a frown. "What about non-suspicious boats, have you checked them as well?"

"Of course not!" the mayor said. "The only non-suspicious boat that's docked recently was the Icelander, and that's fine."

Bond exchanged a wary look with M, who turned to the mayor and said, "Mr. Mayor, may I ask who made the determination to clear the Icelander without making a proper check?"

"I did," the mayor replied. "The Icelander is a private yacht that's owned by Karl Jergens. I can vouch personally for Mr. Jergens myself."

Felix turned to his assistant and said, "Sara, call Langley; get everything we have on Karl Jergens."

"Now wait a minute!" the mayor said, looking insulted. "Karl Jergens is a good friend of this city. He's long been a proud sponsor of the arts here in New York. The idea of him being involved in this is insane!"

"If we're wrong, then we'll apologize to Mr. Jergens," M told him. "But until then, it's best to leave no stone unturned."

Bond's attention was drawn to Olivia once more. "Uh, yeah, El--look, now's probably not the best time," Olivia whispered into her cell phone. Then her eyes grew wide with horror. "Oh shit, really? Good Christ!"

"What is it?" Bond asked her.

"My partner, Elliot, has uncovered something," Olivia told them all. "Marko has cancer, and it's terminal. There's something else, Marko's also got another address out on Long Island that nobody knows about."

_B&B_

"What's the problem?" Mr. Ott asked, soon after he got out of his car.

"It's one of the winches," Lena replied, as she escorted him into the building, an abandoned warehouse located on the docks. It was the rally point for the bombs, just a half mile North from where they were taken from the Icelander. "It gave out while they were lifting the second bomb out of the water."

"It fell back into the water?" Ott said, frowning. When Lena nodded, he added, "It appears that Marko is slipping, and more than just with a winch. We'll have to see about whether we want to keep him alive after this is--"

The blast from the explosion blew them both to the floor. Mr. Ott was the first to recover, pulling out his gun as he did so. He checked Lena, and although she looked dazed, he was gratified that the young woman was fine. Ott glanced down the hallway and saw that the doors at the end had been blasted off their hinges, and the door frame was ablaze with fire, looking like the gates of hell.

"The nukes went off?!" Lena fearfully asked.

"If one or both of the nukes had gone off, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Ott told her. He helped Lena to her feet. "You all right?"

"Fine." She glanced wide-eyed at the destruction. "What the fuck just happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Ott said, as he started walking towards the blasted doorway. When he and Lena entered the storage room, their guns drawn, Ott was stunned to see the very walls had been singed black by the force of the explosion. Members of the bomb team all lay dead on the floor--at least the ones whose bodies were still intact. Ott grimaced when he saw various body parts had been flung all over the place. Yet as bad as it was, Ott recognized that this blast was from a conventional bomb.

And there was only one man whom he knew who had a penchant for bombs: Marko. And Marko's body wasn't among the dead.

'Why am I not surprised?' Ott thought, as a white-hot rage grew within him. He glanced at the main platform, where the nukes should be, and saw only one. It appeared to have been heavily damaged by the blast, it's casing ruptured. "We need to get out of here," he said to Lena. "That bomb's emitting radiation."

"I'm surprised the explosion didn't set it off," Lena said.

"It's encasement was enough to protect it, but the encasement itself is now pretty battered," he explained. "Looks like the radioactive materials have been exposed. We need to leave now."

"But I can't find the other nuke!" Lena said, as Ott grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the bomb room.

"That's because it's with Marko, who stole it," Ott told her. "This was a set up on his part from the start. If you hadn't come out to meet me before, you would have been killed along with the others."

When they emerged outside and quickly got into Ott's car, Lena turned to him and asked, "Why? Why would Marko do such a thing?"

"I plan to ask him just that…right before I slit his fucking throat," Mr. Ott snarled.

He pulled the car out of the parking lot and down the street, running a red light in the process. Glancing in the mirror, Ott saw a fleet of police cars pull up to the warehouse they'd just left. "Hope you packed an umbrella, my dear," he muttered, "because it looks like the shit storm has begun."

_B&B_

Olivia smiled when she saw Elliot in the CIA conference room. He stood awkwardly with Munch, Fin and Casey, looking for all the world like a lost sightseer who got separated from his tour group.

Olivia strode up to them, and Munch spotted her first. "Well, if it isn't the Girl From Uncle," he said with a smile.

"The girl from what?" Casey asked, puzzled.

"Just how old are you again?" Munch jokingly asked. "Should you even be out this late, young lady?"

Casey just rolled her eyes in expaseration. "Good you see you again, Liv."

"Just do what I do and ignore him, Casey," Olivia told her, smiling.

"I do, but he just keeps talking," Casey muttered.

Olivia laughed. "Great job on the info about Marko, guys. They're all gearing up to pay a visit to that address in Long Island right now."

"Hey, we're the cavalry, baby," Fin said.

"How are you doing?" Elliot asked Olivia with concern. "You look tired."

"Not bad," she said, "considering I've been shot at and blown up, today."

When Elliot gave Bond a harsh look, Olivia gently grabbed his arm. "It's not his fault, El. It's part of the job."

"Not your everyday job," he said.

"This isn't your everyday case," she replied.

Elliot nodded, looking thoughtful. After taking note of the fact that he and Olivia were now alone, he said, "You know, Liv. There were some things that were said, when we were last together, that I regret. I just wanted to apologize."

"No need," she told him. "Water under the bridge, right?"

Yet Elliot still appeared somewhat uneasy.

"What's wrong, Elliot?" Olivia asked. "Are you all right? Are Kathy and the kids ok?"

"Yeah, they're out of the city, they're safe," he assured her. Then Elliot paused. To Olivia it appeared he was carefully choosing his words. "Look, this might not be the right time for this, but I don't know when will be the right time. There's something I've been meaning to say, and--"

Just then, both Olivia and Elliot were startled by a high pitched screeching sound that emitted from the main viewer. When Olivia glanced over at the viewer she was further alarmed to see a blinking red dot on the map of the city.

'This is it,' Olivia thought with dread. 'We've been nuked! How much time do we have? Minutes? Seconds? Ohmigod….'

She grabbed Elliot, pulled him in close, and said, "Elliot, I love you."

He stared intensely at her. "I know."

"You do?"

"Yes," he said calmly. "I love you, too, Olivia. More than you could ever know. And if we had the time, I'd get us a room at the Waldorf-Astoria and show you just how much I love you."

"I'd be just as happy with you in a Motel 6," Olivia said, as tears came to her eyes. "Hell, I'm more than happy just to be with you right now."

"This is sniffer 04!" a woman's voice frantically shouted over the speakers. "There's been an explosion at one of the warehouses on the west side docks. We have confirmation of radiation! I say again: we have confirmation of radiation right in the warehouse!"

"Relay that postion to the AEC ground teams," somebody yelled in the conference room. "Get them rolling, NOW!"

"Police are already here," the woman on the speakers said. "They've got the area cordoned off."

"What happened?" the mayor cried. "Did they nuke us?!"

"No, Mr. Mayor," Bond replied.

The mayor shot him a panicked look. "How do you know?!"

"Because we're all still here, aren't we?" Bond curtly said.

They all waited on pins and needles as special radiation teams from the Atomic Energy Commision entered the warehouse. Watching on the view screen, Olivia let out a gasp when the AEC teams found one of the bombs, which sat on a platform that was littered with bodies. The AEC teams, who were all clad in special hazmat suits, quickly secured the nuke within a container that sealed away the leaking radiation.

Then a chill shot up Olivia's spine when she heard the AEC commander state that there was only one nuke at the warehouse. "We don't know where the other nuke is," he said.

"The initial explosion looks like it was caused by a conventional bomb," Felix said, as he examined an aerial picture of the blasted warehouse on the view screen. "What the hell happened there?"

"Something not good, trust me," Bond darkly muttered.

"What do you mean?" M asked.

"I think Marko double-crossed Spectre," Bond said. "He set that bomb, so he could steal the other nuke from them."

M shook her head incredulously. "Why the hell would he do that? What would he have to gain?"

"Revenge," Bond said grimly. "Think about it, M. Marko's dying, most likely from being exposed to radiation from a nuke--and it's all thanks to Spectre. He waited until Spectre openly made their extortion demands, then he stole the other nuke."

"Sweet Jesus," Olivia muttered, feeling sick to her stomach. "He's going to just set the other bomb off, isn't he?"

Bond nodded. "And he's hoping Spectre will get the blame for it. That's his ultimate revenge."

"I thought it was bad enough when we were dealing with those Spectre extortionists," M said quietly. "Now we're dealing with a nuclear-armed madman with nothing to lose."

Everybody in the conference room was silent for a chilling moment. Olivia realized that she and Elliot were still holding each other. She embraced him tightly, because she needed to right now. Elliot must have felt the same way, because he hugged her back just as firmly.

And another reason she hugged Elliot now was because things looked so bleak, that Olivia wasn't sure if there would ever be another time for them to embrace again.

**...to be concluded in the next chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

_My thanks to Ponys, georgesgurl117, and Ad Hominem Argument for your kind words. Thanks, guys!_

**Benson & Bond**

**Chapter Seven**

Mr. Ott felt something was wrong when he noticed no there were no guards by the Icelander's gangplank. As they walked through the lifeless ship, the sinking feeling he had in the pit of his stomach increased in size. Once he and Lena arrived on the bridge, Mr. Ott's suspicions were confirmed. The bridge was also empty of the crew--the entire ship had been abandoned.

Lena checked the bank of computers--whose monitors only showed static--and reported, "They've been all wiped clean."

"Jergens heard about the explosion at the holding facility and ran like a dog," Mr. Ott said with disgust. "Operation Diamondhead is over. It's everybody for themselves, now."

"No, that can't be!" Lena cried, stunned.

"Yes, it is," Ott gently told her. "You must go to Zurich, now. Jergens is probably halfway there by now. He'll no doubt try and blame it all on me. You need to get there and tell them what really happened. He was the one who hired Marko in the first place."

"But what about you?"

"I must find Marko and kill him. That son of a bitch is the one who fucked us all, and I'm not about to let him get away with it."

"But Marko has the other bomb!" Lena cried hysterically. "You'll be--"

Ott caressed her face and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "I will kill Marko before he can even set the bomb off. I know where he might be headed. He kept whining about this girl, Needham. I looked up her address. I will be fine. But if you don't go to Zurich and make our case before the master, then neither of us will survive Spectre's wrath. Do you understand?"

Lena nodded, yet her face still had a pained expression of regret.

"This is not the time for melodramatics," Mr. Ott firmly told her. "You must get out of New York. Go, now!"

Letting out a whimper, Lena grabbed him in a tight hug. "I love you!"

Mr. Ott reached down and gently grabbed her by the chin. When she glanced up at him, he said, "You were one of the best Spectre agents whom I've ever trained. I shall see you in Zurich."

"You promise?" Lena said hopefully.

"Promise," Mr. Ott said.

They kissed passionately--until Mr. Ott pushed her away. "Now go," he ordered her.

Lena reluctantly did as she was told. And as he watched her leave the ship, Mr. Ott thought, 'If nothing else, you shall be safe, my love.'

**B&B**

'This is wrong,' Bond thought, as he watched Felix get ready to leave with the assault team. They were gearing up to check out the place that Marko had out on Long Island. Yet there was something bothering James about this whole set up.

After bidding Felix farewell, M strode over to Bond--who stood by the windows of the conference room. "I wished him luck," M said, "but I really think Felix's going on a fool's errand."

"I couldn't agree more," Bond told her. "I don't think they'll find anything at that Long Island address. It's just too easy. And Marko knows that. It'll be the last place he'll go."

"But what other leads do we have?" M asked.

Bond glanced over at Olivia, who sat with Elliot Stabler. "I'll try and find out."

As he walked up to them, Bond noted that Olivia appeared to be very chummy with Elliot--far more than just partners should be. They sat holding hands and speaking softly to each other like lovers.

'Wait, they _are_ lovers,' he realized, with a slight smile. 'Good for her.'

Olivia glanced up at him with concern. "Is everything all right?"

"Felix is going with the FBI's HRT out to Marko's address on Long Island," Bond replied. "Felix is a good, competent man, one whom I'd trust with my life, if need be. But I think he's been sent off on a wild goose chase."

Elliot nodded his head in agreement. "Marko would never go out there, because he knows that we know about it."

"Exactly," Bond said.

"But if Marko was going to set off the bomb, why didn't he do it by now?" Olivia said. "What's he waiting for?"

"Good question," Bond commented. "We have no other leads at the moment. But the both of you have dealt with Marko before--as Luke Marcus. Is there anything you can give me--anything at all--that can give us a clue as to where he might be?"

"The feds are crawling all over his former homes," Olivia said thoughtfully. "He blew up another one right in front of us…there's really nothing left in the city for him to turn to right now."

"What about people?" Bond asked. "Is there anybody he can count on for help?"

"The bastard thought he was in love with his last rape victim," Elliot said with disgust. "But she didn't share his feelings. What's her name again, Liv?"

"Tracy Needham," Olivia said.

And then both Olivia and Elliot slowly turned their heads and gave each other a thoughtful look.

"He _is_ dying," Elliot said. "Maybe he wants to pay one last visit to a woman, who, in his mind, was his great love."

"Tracy Needham," Olivia said again--this time with more meaning. "She's really the last link Marko has here in New York."

"Who's Tracy Needham?" Bond asked.

**B&B**

"Mom, I'm home," Tracy called, as she entered the house. She dropped her school books on the kitchen table with a weary sigh. She was grateful that her last class of the day at community college got cancelled. This gave her some time to get something to eat before heading off to work at the mall.

"Mom?!" she called again. The house seemed unusually quiet. "I'm just gonna grab something to eat before I head off to work, ok? Mom, did you--"

Tracy stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a pair of feet sticking out on the floor in the living room. When she ran up to the doorway, she was stunned to see her mother sprawled out on the floor, laying very still.

"MOM!" Tracey screamed, as she ran to her mother's side. The woman had a pulse, slow and steady. But she was out cold. Blood trickled from a wound on her head, soaking the carpeting.

Panic gripped Tracy as she tried to figure out what had happened. Did she trip? Did she fall? What did--

Tracy did a double take when she saw Luke Marcus standing casually in the doorway. "I had to do that," he muttered, staring coldly at the unconscious woman. "But then, your mother and I never did get along…."

As much as she hated to leave her mother, sheer panic made Tracy get up and run for the door. She had spent several horrific days in captivity, being a sexual slave to this monster, and after having an experience like that branded onto her psyche, Tracy swore she would never endure that kind of horror again.

As she ran, the front door flew towards her.

'I have Olivia and Elliot's phone number,' she thought. 'As soon as I get away, I'll call them!'

The door came ever closer as she continued running.

'I'll get help for mom!' Tracy swore. 'And this time, I'll make sure this bastard gets locked away forever!'

And yet just before she reached the threshold of the door, Tracy let out a scream as she was grabbed from behind.

**B&B**

"Nothing," Olivia said, as she switched off her cell. "I keep getting their answering machine."

She sat in the passenger seat of the Aston Martin as Bond drove at high speed down the highway. "I really hope she's all right," she said, looking concerned.

"This may be yet another wild goose chase," Bond warned her.

Elliot poked his head up from the back seat. "We'll never know as long as you keep driving like an old lady. Can't you get this tub to move any faster?"

Bond glared at him, then shot Olivia a puzzled look. "Why did we bring him along again?"

"Because I'm her partner, Jimmy," Elliot said. "Look, I can get us there faster. So just pull over and let me drive, ok?"

"Over my dead body," Bond blandly muttered.

Elliot grinned broadly at him. "Well, Jimmy, if you insist…."

"Boys, knock it off," Olivia curtly told them. "Call it a hunch, but I've got a real bad feeling about this."

"You want fast, Stabler?" Bond asked. "How's this?"

He stomped on the accelerator, causing the Aston Martin's engine to let out a roar as it instantly responded, flying down the highway at lightning fast speed.

Elliot, who had been flung against the back seat when the car speeded up, nodded his head in approval. "Now that's what I'm talking about, Jimmy!"

**B&B**

"At last," Marko said, as he caressed Tracy's hair. "We can finally be together, in our last moments on this earth."

"You're insane!" Tracy cried. She sat on the floor in the living room, next to the unconscious body of her mother. Not able to move, Tracy's hands and feet had been tied with rope.

"Only insane with desire to be with you, my love," Luke said, letting out a cough. It abruptly occurred to Tracy that he really didn't look too good. He held up what looked like a remote control in the palm of his hand and added, "One flick of this switch, and we shall be together, forever, in oblivion."

"What happened to you, Luke?" Tracy asked, trying to keep her voice calm. She wasn't sure if his threat was for real, but Tracy figured that if she kept talking to him, she might be able to talk him out of whatever he had planned. "Tell me, what's wrong?"

"Nothing an eternity spent with you will--" Luke began to say, then stopped. He suddenly glanced out the windows. "Did you hear something?"

'Oh God, let it be the police,' Tracy prayed. "Um, I didn't hear anything, Luke," she said. "What did you--?"

Before she could even finish her question, Tracy let out a scream as she watched the top of Luke Marcus' head get blown off. He collapsed to the floor, already dead. For a split second, she thought he had killed himself--until Tracy realized there was now a large bullet hole in the front window.

'Police sniper!' Tracy thought giddily.

Rolling across the floor, Tracy used the chair by the window to help herself to stand up. When she first saw the man outside with the gun, Tracy smiled. But then she got a good look at him.

He had a scar running down half his face, and the eye on that side was white and dead. He didn't look like any policeman that Tracy recognized. And when he saw her, Tracy's fear was confirmed when the man coldly raised his gun to shoot her.

Yet the man was interrupted by the sound of a car engine that was fast approaching. Tracy watched as he lowered his gun and ducked under cover in the surrounding foliage.

Still stunned, Tracy sat down in the chair and thought about her predicament. She was tied up with her unconscious mother and the body of the man who molested her both laying on the floor before her. The dead Luke Marcus stared up at her with a glazed-over look in his eyes and a slightly stupid smile on his face.

"What the fuck is going on here?" she asked incredulously.

But if the late Luke Marcus knew, he wasn't going to tell her.

**B&B**

"We've got a car," Bond said, as he pulled the Aston Martin into the driveway of Tracy Needham's home. There was a sedan parked in front of the home, which was set back from the main road by about an acre. It was a very private, secluded house--which set Elliot's nerves on edge. 'It's the perfect place for an ambush,' he thought.

As soon as he, Olivia and Bond all got out of the car, they pulled out their guns. When he and Olivia exchanged a look, Elliot realized that she didn't like this set up, either. Something was wrong, here…something very wrong.

And then, they heard a young woman cry out from within the house: "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Tracy?" Olivia called, as she began running towards the house.

"No, Liv, wait--!" Elliot called, but it was too late, she was already inside.

'Damn it, Liv,' Elliot thought, as he began running up to the front door. 'Always putting others before yourself….'

Elliot stopped running when Olivia suddenly appeared again. Both her hands were held up, and she had a disgusted look on her face as a man came out from the house right behind her with a gun held to her head. It was Mr. Ott.

'Oh, Christ, no!' Elliot thought, with growing horror. He tried to aim his gun at Ott's head, but the one-eyed man expertly kept the helpless Olivia right in front of Elliot's Glock.

"You all right?" Elliot asked her.

"I've been better," Olivia replied, an annoyed look on her face.

"Where's your boyfriend?" Ott harshly asked her.

"You're looking at him," Olivia replied, giving Elliot the slightest of smiles.

He never loved this woman more than he did right now. 'No matter what happens, I'm getting her out of this alive,' Elliot swore. 'No way in hell am I losing her now, not after I finally realized how much she truly matters to me!'

"I meant Bond!" Ott roared, shaking Olivia. "Where the hell is Bond?"

'Good question,' Elliot thought, as he cast a furtive glance around him. There was no sign of the English spy. 'Don't know where he ran off to, but might as well use it to our advantage.'

"It's just us," Elliot told him. "Just us three here, nobody else. So how about you put the gun down, and--"

"I've got the hostage!" Ott said. "That means I'm in charge here!"

"Oooo, what a big, bad man," Olivia muttered with disgust. "He's probably got a penis as small as a--"

"Be quiet, bitch!" Ott told her.

"Ok, ok, easy now," Elliot said, as he quickly switched gears. "You're in charge. So what do you want?"

"I want you to drop your weapon on the ground, now!" Ott commanded.

"Can't do that," Elliot firmly told him. He kept his Glock pointed at them, hoping for a clear shot of Ott's head. "Anything else I can help you with? Hey, how's about we order out for pizza?"

"Can I have extra pepperoni on mine?" Olivia asked. "No anchovies, though, I hate that shit."

"Both of you, shut up!" Ott shouted. He abruptly aimed the gun at Elliot and added, "Starting with you!"

Elliot froze when he realized he still didn't have a clear shot at Ott--yet Ott had him dead to rights.

Elliot flinched when he heard the gunshot, but he never felt the bullet hit him. When he glanced up, Elliot's eyes grew wide at the sight before him.

Olivia stood with an equally stunned look on her face as Mr. Ott--what was left of him--slowly released her and fell back against the exterior wall of the house. He slid down to the ground, yet Elliot could see that he was already dead from the bullet hole in his face--ironically, the bullet had gorged out his whitened eye, leaving him only the good eye, which stared up at the sky in shocked amazement.

"Come here," Elliot said, taking Olivia by the hand and pulling her towards him. They embraced tightly. "Christ, Liv, are you all right?"

"I am now," she replied, giving him a kiss. "Good shooting."

"It wasn't me," Elliot said.

Elliot and Olivia stared as Bond emerged from the bushes with a sniper's rifle held in one arm. "You all right?" he asked Olivia with concern.

"Yeah," she gratefully replied. "Thanks!"

Bond cradled the rifle in his arms like a baby as he stood over the dead Ott with a mixture of satisfaction and relief. "Don't look so shocked, old boy," he told the dead man, who still had a stunned expression frozen on his face. "I told you I'd go for the head shot the next time we'd meet."

"Excuse me?!" Tracy Needham cried from inside the house. "My mother needs medical help; I'm tied up, and there's a dead guy bleeding all over the new carpet!"

They quickly went inside and found Tracy alive and unharmed and sitting in a chair. Elliot cut her loose while Olivia checked out her mother, who was sprawled on the floor. The body of Luke Marcus lay on the other side of the room.

"She needs a bus, El," Olivia said, as she took out her cell and called in a request for an ambulance.

Once Elliot had freed her, Tracy knelt down next to Olivia beside the prone form of her mother. "She's gonna be all right," Olivia assured her. "She just needs to get to a hospital."

Elliot saw Bond was carefully examining something in the hand of the dead Luke Marcus. 'Or was it Marko?' Elliot wondered. 'Guess it don't matter now, because this bastard's also dead. And good riddance…'

"What you got?" Elliot asked Bond.

"The detonator for a nuclear bomb," Bond coolly replied. "Marko was still holding it in his hand, his finger over the trigger, when Ott shot him. It's a bloody miracle the thing didn't go off."

A chill shot up Elliot's spine at the thought of how close they'd all come to armageddon. Then a new scary thought struck him. "Where's the bomb?"

"Good question," Bond said, as he carefully removed the detonator from Marko's death grip. "This gizmo looks like a short range model, so the bomb should be right in the neighborhood. What say we go bomb hunting, Elliot?"

"Oh…joy…" Elliot muttered with obvious dread. 'Just the thing I really need to do right now, go looking for a lost fucking nuke.'

"Hey, El?" Olivia called over to him. She held the distraught Tracy in her arms. "If you find the bomb, just do me a favor and don't press any buttons, huh?"

"Ha-ha," Elliot said humorlessly.

Once Elliot and Bond went outside, the sight of a Roto-Drainer plumber's truck, which was parked behind the garage, immediately caught their attention. Bond opened the back door, while Elliot covered him. There was a large olive-drab-colored metal box in the cargo space. Elliot noted that all of the writing on the box was in another language…it looked like Russian.

"This is it," Bond said, letting out a sigh of relief. "It's finally over."

Elliot couldn't help but smile at the comical image of finding a nuclear bomb in the back of a plumber's truck. "This son of a bitch would certainly unclog a lot of drains!"

Bond pulled out a call phone and began speaking into it. "M, I've got the bomb, Marko, and Ott. Yes, they're dead," he said after a pause. "Ott killed Marko, and I got Ott. The bomb is secure. Have Felix and the HRT meet us at--one moment, please." He lowered the phone and asked, "Where the bloody hell are we, Elliot?"

"You're in the garden spot of the world, Jimmy," Elliot replied, smiling. "Queens, New York."

**B&B**

Several hours later, back in New York City, Olivia stood watching on the dock as the FBI's Hostage Rescue Team assaulted the Icelander. She had just come from the hospital with Elliot, where Tracy's mother was being looked after. The woman had suffered a concussion, yet she would be all right.

After tracing phone calls from the cell phones from the deceased Mr. Ott and Marko, all of their leads came back here, to the Icelander.

Olivia watched anxiously as several squads of black-clad, helmeted agents, fully armed with automatic weapons, stormed the gangplanks and ran along the deck of the luxury ship, which appeared to be empty. Olivia stood with Bond, Elliot and Felix--the latter listened intently to a communication device that was in his ear, waiting to hear word from the teams who were now swarming all over the ship.

"Jergens is probably miles away by now," Olivia said with disgust.

"He'd be crazy to hang around," Elliot agreed.

"M has already issued an alert on him," Bond said. "MI6, the CIA, and several other intelligence agencies are now looking for him. No matter where Jergens winds up in the world, once he pops his head up, we'll know it. He's as good as caught."

"They say it's all clear," Felix announced. "With the exception of some servant girls they found locked up below, there's nobody else aboard."

"No unpleasant surprises?" Bond asked.

Felix shook his head. "No bombs, if that's what you mean. The HRT commander says it looks like they bugged out pretty quickly."

"Once they found out Marko had gone rouge with one of the nukes, could you blame them for not wanting to stick around?" Elliot asked.

"In any case, we're clear to go aboard," Felix said.

"You two want to check it out with us?" Bond asked Olivia and Elliot.

"Why not?" Olivia muttered. "We came this far."

Once aboard the Icelander, Olivia was stunned at the opulent luxury that was on display. One dining room aboard the ship was larger than her entire apartment. Olivia had trouble believing that she was aboard a seaworthy vessel, since the interior of the Icelander looked more like a lavish hotel.

For his part, Elliot looked very angry. When Olivia asked him what was wrong, he said, "These fuckers had all of this wealth, and they still tried to extort us with nukes? What, this splendor wasn't enough for them?"

Olivia understood what he meant. She shook her head and said, "Who can truly understand greed, El?"

Bond came up to them with an urgent look on his face. "We've got a problem down below."

"What is it?" Olivia asked.

"It's one of the servant girls," he told her. "She's terrified, and is refusing to come out of her hiding place. The HRT boys are being a little rough with her, and I figured this situation could use a more delicate touch. You feel up to it, Liv?"

"Take me to her," Olivia quickly said.

When Olivia was brought to where the servant girl was hiding, she couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor thing. The girl, who was crouched down behind a large pipe in the engine room, couldn't have been more than late teens-early twenties, at best. She looked to be Filipino, and was terrified out of her mind as she stared at Olivia with wide, frightened eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be all right," Olivia assured her, as she slowly made her way towards the girl. "You're safe, now. Nobody will harm you." She reached out with her hand. "My name is Olivia Benson, and I'm a detective with the NYPD."

Olivia was stunned when the girl said, "I am a dead woman. For I have seen the face of the devil."

"The devil?" Olivia said. "If you mean Jergens, you have nothing to worry about. He's long gone from here. He can't hurt you."

The girl shook her head. "No, not Jergens. I mean the true devil," she said in a whisper. "The leader of Spectre, the man with the white cat…I saw his face, and I know his real name."

'Oh sweet Jesus,' Olivia thought, as she glanced over at Bond and said, "James, get the fuck over here, now!"

**B&B**

"Let me just say how sorry I am about the way Operation Diamondhead turned out," Jergens humbly said. He stood in Spectre's secret headquarters, located in Zurich, Switzerland. The view of the snow-capped mountains in the background was now hidden by a series of armored shudders. "It was very unfortunate."

"It was a fiasco!" Spectre's leader said, his voice dripping with disgust. As usual, he sat in the shadows, petting his beloved cat. "A fiasco from which it will take Spectre years to recover and to regroup!"

"I should never have trusted Mr. Ott as much as I did." Jergens bowed his head in the direction of his master. "I now stand ready to do whatever is needed to help, sir," he said. "Anything I can do, anything at all, I shall do it."

"Indeed? You say you shall do anything?"

"Yes sir, and I mean it," Jergens said with conviction. "I shall do anything you wish."

"In that case, you can die," the leader of Spectre said in his icy, casual manner.

Jergens never saw the figure emerge from the shadows behind him until it was too late. By the time he even realized there was somebody behind him, the knife had already been stuck into his back, killing him instantly. His last vision in life was that of the Spectre leader's cat coldly watching him die while it was being gently petted by its master.

Jergens' killer was a petite figure who was all clad in black. She stood over the dead man's body with a satisfied look on her face.

"Well done, Lena," the Spectre leader said. "Mr. Ott has taught you well."

"Thank you, sir," Lena said with a bow to her master. "I only wish--" Her voice caught with emotion. "I-I'm sorry, sir, but I miss him."

"Mr. Ott's death at the hands of Bond is an even greater loss to us than the failure of Operation Diamondhead," the Spectre leader said. "But, rest assured, both the paths of Spectre and Bond shall cross again one day. And when that occurs, Lena, I promise you will have the first shot at killing 007."

Lena's sad expression dissolved into a broad grin. "Thank you sir. I look forward to the day when I kill Bond."

**B&B**

'Oh, I'm gonna miss you,' Olivia thought, as she lovingly caressed the hood of the Aston Martin. 'I'll never feel safe driving through the streets of New York after you're gone.'

Bond, who stood speaking with Elliot in the one-six parking garage, noticed Olivia's tender moment with a smile and pointed it out to Elliot--who called, "Should we leave you two alone?"

Olivia came over to them and asked Bond, "Are you sure you need to bring the car back with you right away?"

"M gets cranky when I lose my toys," Bond replied. "And you know how scary M can be when she gets cranky…."

Olivia held up her hands with a mock-scared expression. "Say no more! I understand perfectly. Thanks, for all that you've done, James."

"It's you who I should be thanking, Liv," he said. "I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

They embraced warmly just then. And when they did, Bond whispered into her ear: "And I hope you and Elliot are very happy together. You made a great couple."

Olivia was at first stunned that he knew about their blossoming romance--but then she supposed that she and Elliot didn't exactly go out of their way to hide their feelings for each other. "Thanks," Olivia said, once they broke their embrace. "You heading back to England, now?"

Bond nodded. "To London, to report to M with the real name of Spectre's leader. I guess it's back to the streets of New York for you, eh, Liv?"

"Yeah--" She glanced at Elliot with a slight smile. "But, before that, we're gonna hit the first hotel we see."

Bond laughed at that. "It's always good to keep your priorities straight. Take care, Liv."

"You too, James." She and Elliot watched as he got into the Aston Martin and drove off.

"It's really over," Elliot said, as he drew Olivia into an embrace. "The nightmare's finally over, Liv. What do you want to do to celebrate?"

Olivia glanced up at him with a sly smile and said, "Remember that hotel we were talking about?"

**B&B**

When Bond strode into M's office several hours later, he found the woman working at her desk. She glanced up at him and nodded. "You said you wanted to tell me something, 007. What is it?"

Bond leaned over her desk and said, "Ernest Starvo Blofeld."

M, looking confused, removed her glasses. "Who?"

"The name of the leader of Spectre," Bond said, slapping a file down on her desk. "Once I got his name, I was able to locate information on him."

"The son of a bitch with the cat?" M said, leafing through the file. "That was Blofeld?"

"A self-made billionaire industrialist, his wife and daughter were involved in a hostage situation several years ago," Bond said, as he took a seat before her desk. "The Special Air Service launched an assault to rescue the hostages, and, unfortunately, Blofeld's wife and daughter were accidentally killed."

"Yes, I recall that incident, now," M said with a gasp. "Blofeld blamed the SAS, as well as the British government, for the death of his family. But I also recall hearing that Blofeld later became so despondent that he killed himself."

"He arranged his death so he could disappear from view," Bond said. "And sine then, he's apparently been setting up the Spectre organization as his twisted revenge. I've managed to track his financial movements since he faked his death--it's all in the file."

"Bloody hell, James, this is a marvelous break!" M said excitedly. "Where did you get his name?"

"I have my sources," Bond said cryptically. The brave young servant girl who gave Olivia and him Blofeld's name was now safely back home with her family in Manila--and Bond wanted to keep it that way. Her name would never leave his lips, no matter what torture he would have to endure. "All I ask now is that I may continue the hunt."

"By all means," M replied. "You have my clearance to find this bastard, and stuff that bloody cat down his throat!"

"With extreme pleasure," Bond said, as he left the office.

When he reached the outer office, a voice asked, "Leaving so soon?"

Bond turned to see Moneypenny seated at her desk with a pout. The mousy secretary had taken off her glasses in an effort to make herself more appealing to Bond, and she was indeed a pretty woman--but he knew better than to sleep with the secretary of the boss.

"Duty calls, Moneypenny," Bond said with a shrug.

"I heard you teamed up with a female detective during your last case, James," Moneypenny said, looking jealous. "Was she pretty?"

"Yes, she was," Bond replied, as he fondly recalled Olivia Benson. "She was that and much, much more. But you know I only have eyes for you, Moneypenny."

"Oh, James," Moneypenny swooned. "Where are you off to, now?"

"To see a man about a cat," Bond replied, as he opened the door and left.

"That's not another one of your silly jokes, is it?!" Moneypenny called after him, frowning.

**B&B**

"And there you have it," Rachel Ray said, flashing a smile at the camera. "I just had breakfast, lunch, dinner, a tour of the local brewery and a lovely massage--all for just forty bucks!"

"That's Rachel Ray," Olivia said, pointing at the unusually perky woman on the TV in the hotel room. "And so, as you can see, Elliot, she's not a frigging film critic! All right?"

"Got it. But I'd like to see her try and get by on just forty bucks in New York City," Elliot muttered, as he rolled over on his back on the bed. "She'd never get past Times Square before blowing her whole wad."

He watched Olivia, who sat cross-legged beside him on the bed, as she gazed thoughtfully at the TV. She absently collected her shoulder-length hair with one hand and lifted it off of her neck. "Do you think I should get my hair cut, El?"

"Only if you want to," he replied, giving her bare leg a gentle stroke with his hand. "What brought this up?"

"Looking at Rachel makes me think it's time for a change," she replied. "She has long hair, too. Does having long hair make me look perky? I don't want to look perky, especially on the Job. Maybe I should get my hair cut short again."

"You know what I think we should do?" Elliot said. "I think we should forget about Rachel and get back to humping our brains out."

Olivia laughed. "My, how romantic!"

He flinched, smiling broadly, as she reached out and tickled his bare torso. "Ok, so maybe I can't say it as suavely as Mr. James Bond, 007," Elliot admitted. "But at least I can still get the job done."

"James certainly had his merits," Olivia said, suddenly lost in fond memories of their frantic time together. "He could be very harsh--needlessly so at times--but there's a need for that sometimes. And yet there was still a decency to him. I'm glad he's out there, for the dark times, you know?"

Elliot nodded. "Yeah, I do. I've been thinking. It's funny, but it took being on the brink of losing everything to make me realize how much I love you. And I'm very grateful for that realization. And for the chance we have now to act on it."

Olivia leaned over and cradled Elliot's face in her hands. "There's nobody I'd rather be on the brink with than you, El."

They kissed passionately, then resumed their lovemaking--oblivious to Rachel Ray as she continued to perkily burble on in the background.

**The End**


End file.
